


Forgiven (always forever)

by Vrunka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Drug Use, Fisting, Graphic Genji/Male OC, Hand Jobs, Heavy Dubcon, M/M, Non-sexual humiliation, Referenced Genji/OC, Shimadacest, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture, graphic non sexual nudity, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: Prompt for day 1 of Shimadacest week (yeah I'm like five days late on this I know)This is not the first mistake Genji has made, nor will it be his last. But Hanzo is always there to clean up his messes. Always has been. Always will be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I took the forgiveness prompt proceeded to completely ignore the implication of present day cyborg forgiveness and wrote more past Shimada angst.
> 
> Heed the tags. There is torture of an OC in the first part and flashbacks to it throughout part two.

The girl is terrified. She is shaking in the center of the floor. Armed guards at her sides. Her arms are trembling.

She is naked.

From where Hanzo is standing, next to his father, he can see the gooseflesh on her ribs, her thighs. Creamy flesh gone bumpy and pale in her fear.

She has pissed herself.

The smell of the urine wafts around the room. Sharp, ugly.

No one has made a move to clean it. Her legs are damp and shiny with it. She does not seem to notice. She is crying. She is scared.

Hanzo cannot feel pity for her. He can't feel anything at all.

Or maybe he feels something. A tiny bolt of shame through his gut when Genji stumbles into the room. Genji still bleary from sleep, rubbing a hand across his eyes, his hair mussed from his pillow, standing up in the back. He is dressed in a low-slung boxers and nothing else.

The smell of the girl's urine hits him before the sight has fully settled. Hanzo can see his brother's nose wrinkle as his sinuses reject the scent. And then the scene clicks.

"Rise-chan," he says. He sounds confused, lost. There is a question mark at the end of it.

She half-turns at his voice. Her breasts are too large for her thin frame, her nipples are dark and peaked, little brown walnuts.

"Genji," she says, her voice is clotted, thick from her tears. She moves, scoots without standing. Dragging through the puddle of piss between her legs. "Please," she says, "I didn't--"

She has moved beyond her boundary. One of the guards strikes her in the face. Her head snaps back on her neck, a cracking echoes through the room. She tumbles, misses the urine by an inch, and lays on the floor shaking, sobbing, but silent now.

Genji makes a face at the sight. He looks horrified, angry. Red-cheeked with his indigence. Father and Hanzo and the guards watch his rage blossom.

Hanzo pointedly does not stare at the lean stretch of his brother's stomach, or his legs, or the slight lump in the material where his brother's cock must be. He keeps his expression neutral. He stares at nothing.

"Father," Genji yells, moving toward the girl on the floor. "What is the meaning of this?" One of the guards moves to intercept him. Genji slaps at the hand that presses against his sternum. But the guard is persistent, he keeps his arm out, keeps Genji from crossing to her.

Genji--despite his bravado, despite the puffed chest and red face--must not care overly much, Hanzo decides. He does little more to fight the guard. Truly angry, Genji would break the man's arm, or his neck, for interfering.

The girl sits up. Her lip is puffy, chin already purpling. She looks over at their lord father. Her eyes are discolored from her tears, red, raw looking.

"I have indulged you over long, I think," Lord Shimada says. His voice is slow and ponderous. Genji swallows. Staring up at their father.

The girl shakes and shakes.

Genji glances down at her, over to Hanzo and back to their father. A slow circuit.

"Tell me what has happened. Rise-chan is m--"

"And you presume to give me orders," their father continues. His eyes flutter shut, open again; his gaze is harder than before. This a show. Every move has been rehearsed.

The other heads of affairs whisper and watch, lining the walls.

The girl shivers.

Hanzo truly hopes she will not scream, but he already knows that it cannot be.

"For too long now, you have brought your...flight of fancies into the castle. Indulged your...baser instincts as any willful child your age might," Lord Shimada says.

Hanzo can see the way the word child rakes at Genji's nerves. His rising heckles. Lips pulling back from his teeth.

"Do not speak," Lord Shimada says. His voice is a crack of thunder. Infinite. Unquestionable.

Even Genji looks slightly cowed by the tone.

"I have overlooked it. A weak father perhaps," he looks to the assembled heads, the old men nodding sagely, "as many among my council have told me." A few more gentle nods, hands clasped in front of puckered, pink lips.

Hanzo hates every one of them. Genji does too. He wears his hatred on his sleeve. He glowers at the surrounding men, at the guards, at their father.

At Hanzo himself.

Genji's eyes are dark and smoldering when they roll over Hanzo's.

"Tell my son where we found you, whore," Lord Shimada says.

The girl cringes at the insult, curls in on herself. Her hair falls over her trembling shoulders. There is a bruise on the right one, closer to her neck, Hanzo can just see it through the curtain of her hair. He wonders if it matches the shape of Genji's mouth, Genji's even white teeth.

He hates her for it, a distant, coiling hate.

She keens into her own knees. An animal sound.

Genji flinches at it. His hands move helplessly at his side. Lord Shimada watches the interplay with disinterest. Genji bites his lip. He is faltering only slightly.

That bright optimism fading to gaudy and cheap.

"Where did they find you, Rise-chan?" he asks.

She shakes her head. Turns to look at Genji over her shoulder. Her chin blocks the bruise. Her eyes are living things, wet, trickling, pitiable.

"I didn't know, Genji-kun," she says. "I didn't mean to. I had to...to go to the bath and I...got all twisted around and I was--please," she says. Her voice is a rush. Words jumping to be in front of one another. There is snot on her cheek. "Genji, please, you have to--you must believe me. I didn't know I just knew that...and then I was--I didn't know what to do. How to get back."

"Enough," Lord Shimada says.

But the girl is on a roll now. "No!" she screeches, her hands slip in the puddle of her pee as she turns, wild-eyed to the lord. "You cannot. I didn't know. Do you hear me?! I didn't--"

The guard who struck her before steps forward again. His foot connects with her chin. She yells, wordless. Genji makes no move to help this time. He stands motionless.

The girl looks up at him.

There is blood on her face, streaked across her cheek. Her lips are bright with it. She must have bitten her tongue.

"Where were you," Lord Shimada repeats. He is infinitely patient. His tone conveys no rush.

"Your Lord's study," she says. "An office. I do not know how I got there."

"She'll say anything if you hurt her enough, Father," Genji says. His hands clench, release. His stomach moves with his breathing. "Surely you can see this was a mistake, an honest mistake. She isn't--"

"How did you know the patterns and rotations of the guards?" Lord Shimada asks, talking over Genji. Raising his voice only slightly to do so.

"I told them to her. So she could..." Genji falters again. A bigger mistake this time. The realization shudders across his face. "So she could get in and out, without detection."

"So you told her," Lord Shimada says. It is not a surprise. "But you did not tell her about the midnight guards. The ones who patrol my private suites. Because why would you?"

"I wouldn't."

"Of course not." Lord Shimada folds his hands in front of him. "Which is why we found her the way we did. How did we find you?"

She shakes her head again, harder. She is mute. She is panicking. She looks at Genji.

Genji is not looking at her.

"It doesn't matter how you found her, Father," Genji says. "She is naked and she is hurt and she is vulnerable--,"

"A lying, two-faced whore, Genji. That is what she is," Lord Shimada says. "An enemy that you invited into our midst."

Genji meets Hanzo's gaze. His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth. His skin has gone sickly white, it spreads down his chest. Curdling.

"What would you have me do, Father?"

"What would I ever have you do," Lord Shimada says. The guard in front of Genji unsheathes his sword. It is silver in light of the room, gorgeous and cutting. "I would have you atone, my son, I would have you obey. I would have you protect this family."

The girl makes a shrill sound, inhuman. Grinding. "Genji! Please! Don't!" She is screaming her voice breaks over his name.

Genji stares down at the sword. Genji looks down at the girl. Genji looks at Hanzo.

Genji will not, cannot do this. Hanzo already knows.

But he makes a valiant effort. Whether the girl's transgression means all that much to him or not, Genji takes the sword from the waiting hand. He hefts it slightly between his palms.

A dagger would do better, something smaller and more easily maneuverable. The girl is delicate, she will take delicate work.

"I will do it, Father," Hanzo says. It is the first words he has spoken at all since being woken from his bed. They surprise even him as they slip from his lips.

Lord Shimada frowns. He looks to his elder son with stern warning in the crease of his brows. The council of old men purse their lips, lean over to whisper to one another.

"Genji I'm sure would do fine, but the blade," Hanzo tips his head. He is walking thin ice, but it has been so long since he has dared speak out of turn like this. His father's indulgence on Genji is spent; Hanzo hopes maybe he has retained some for his ever-loyal son somewhere in his cantankerous heart. He shifts, draws a knife from his own gi.

The blade is short, and razor sharp. Deadly. Cruel.

"Besides," Hanzo says, deliberate and slow, "I do not mind cleaning up my errant brother's messes."

The girl howls. She is begging and sobbing. Worked into a frenzy. She repeats Genji's name, over and over. Babbles and swears.

Hanzo will get her to talk. Genji would not have the patience for it. Genji's face is an open wound; Hanzo just prays he won't say anything further.

Their lord father glances between the two of them. The girl's caterwauling goes ignored.

"Very well," he says. "Genji you will stay, you will watch. You will not repeat these mistakes again."

Genji, mute, utterly shattered, simply nods.

"I don't know anything," the girl insists as Hanzo approaches her. The guards move aside for him, part like water. "Please, Shimada-san, Genji, Genji. Please!"

Hanzo starts with her ears. She is vain, all of Genji's women are vain. Her face will be the easiest place to break her.

She keeps up her cover, she screams and she kicks and she gives a very good performance. Hanzo has her blood under his nails. Genji is staring at the floor by their feet.

She says a name, a mob boss in the red light district when Hanzo cuts off her right nipple. The blade flashes a deft cut, she probably barely feels it. But Hanzo holds it in front of her to see and she goes even paler under the blood and she says a name.

It's only a matter of time from there.

He is slicing into her nose when she sobs and spasms and gives up the last of the information someone as low as she on the gang hierarchy would have.

Hanzo looks to Lord Shimada. Genji is still staring at the floor, the bloody ghoulish mess that was his last night fling. The girl he had so recently been in. God, Hanzo hates her. He lets her drop to the floor unceremoniously when Lord Shimada nods.

His work is done.

His bloody, awful work.

The girl moans, weakly. She is dying. A good man would put her out of her misery. Hanzo wipes his blade on his sleeve and passes it to Genji.

This part, at least, Genji can handle. Genji's fingers shake as he takes the knife from Hanzo.

Hanzo does not wait around for it to be done. He stalks from the room. The grand doors to the hall slam closed behind him.

\--

It is almost dawn when Genji knocks on the door to Hanzo's room. Hanzo has not slept since returning to his chambers. His mind is an active, pacing thing.

"I'm sorry," Genji says, clutching at the wooden frame. His fingers silhouetted in the thin material of the shōji. He is still shaking. He looks the way Hanzo feels. Unhinged. Pulling apart.

"I'm sorry, Hanzo. I'm sorry."

Hanzo does not want the apologies. They mean nothing. Genji repeats them endlessly, after every mistake, every willful disaster.

"Please look at me, brother," Genji says. He is whispering. Desperate. "Father will not."

Hanzo looks at him and Genji shudders, a little hiccuping sob. He leans forward until he is collapsing against Hanzo's solid form. His muscles are jittering under his skin. He still only wearing his boxers.

His skin breaks out in goosebumps when Hanzo runs his hand down Genji's back. Genji relaxes down into the touch, arches into the contact.

"I won't do it again," Genji says. "I promise, I promise. I promise, big brother. I won't."

It's an empty promise. Hanzo gives it a week before Genji is sneaking his lovers back onto the castle ground. Maybe a week and a half.

"I know I'm always such trouble for you," Genji says.

He looks up. Meets Hanzo's gaze. They are almost the same height now, Genji has been gaining on him. At twenty-three Hanzo is mostly done growing.

"Hanzo," he says, quietly. He glances down the hall, presses against Hanzo's body until Hanzo steps back to let him into the room. "Are you very mad at me?"

He is.

He is not.

It is impossible to feel just one way when it comes to Genji. Hanzo's emotions are always a torrid, heady thing. Too high in his throat to be ignored.

"Leave it be, Genji. It doesn't matter any more."

"I know you don't...don't like doing it either but I...Hanzo, I couldn't."

"I did not ask you to. I took your burden, when do I not?"

"So let me take yours," Genji says. "This once more. Please, Hanzo. I'll be better."

This once more.

They do not talk about the other times.

They do not acknowledge there will be times in the future. Genji will always have something to atone for, some errant mistake, some prodigal legacy.

This is the only way Genji knows how to make it up. This is the only way Hanzo knows how to accept. Genji gives him his everything is these quiet moments. Genji, Hanzo's sole reason for being.

He lets Genji walk him back to the bed. Their pulses race, equally. Hanzo can feel Genji's in his wrist. Thumping. Alive.

He had felt the girl's too. The blood pulsing sluggishly from her, slowing as she lost more and more of it.

He does not want to think about her. But inevitably he always does. Usually Genji's mistakes are not so drastic. Usually it is not the full brunt of Father's wrath on their shoulders.

Genji hands are trembling as he pushes Hanzo's clothes off. He is rather unceremonious about it. It is not nerves or discomfort that has him shaking. Hanzo can feel a slight tremor in his own muscles as well.

An answer.

It has left him just as shaken and uncomfortable as it has Genji.

Genji is forgive. Of course he is forgiven.

There is the blush of blood across Genji's hands. On his chest. Like someone wiped it off but poorly. The shadow remains. Hanzo traces his thumb down the arc of it. A splatter. Genji shivers when Hanzo touches his nipple.

Maybe he is thinking about the girl.

Or maybe he is thinking about some other girl.

Or maybe he is thinking about Hanzo.

He murmurs Hanzo's name when Hanzo tongues against the nub. Pushes until he is straddling Hanzo's lap, knees digging into Hanzo's hip.

His flesh tastes like copper. Hanzo's stomach rolls with the flavor. Genji roots his fingers in Hanzo's hair, won't let him pull his mouth too far away.

It is usually Hanzo, riding out his pleasure in Genji's lap. This is a change.

It is not wholly terrible.

Hanzo flicks his tongue and Genji hisses. His cock presses shamelessly against the front of his boxers. Hanzo works his hand around until he can slide Genji out the front of them.

"Brother," Genji says, his voice catching, hitching, "do you forgive me?"

"You are always forgiven."

"I mean it this time, Hanzo. Brother. Big brother." Genji tilts his hips. Hanzo's fingers slip his foreskin down and Genji shudders harder.

Organically.

Not from fear and anxiety and sorrow.

"Who was that girl?" Hanzo asks.

Genji shakes his head, biting his lip. "A no one. A whore. A backstabbing cunt."

"Will the next one be the same?"

"There will never be a next one. If you would just...let me have this, always, I would have no--"

Hanzo twists his grip and Genji's words stutter into a keen. Pleasure shatters over him. Hanzo watches it twist across Genji's face. A flush down his neck, across his pecs.

"Say it again," Hanzo says. "Tell me your pretty lies, Genji."

"Fuck," Genji groans. Hanzo's fingernail presses against his cockhead, spreading slick straight from his slit. Running his thumb from the head and back as his pointer finger coaxes the slow dripping stickiness.

"Am I forgiven?"

"If you lie, then yes. Am I yours, Genji?"

"You are mine."

"Are you mine?"

Genji licks his lips. The women, the men, his parade of nightly courtships. Hanzo has never asked what exactly they get up to in Genji's chambers. He always pretended not to care.

"I am only yours, brother. It's all I've ever wanted."

Beautiful.

Lovely.

Completely false.

Hanzo squeezes tighter. Works his hand down the shaft. Leans his neck forward to suckle and bite at Genji's chest.

Undeniable bruises that no one will bother to question.

"Hanzo," Genji says. Bucking, thrusting into Hanzo's hands. "Hanzo, I love you," he says. "Brother, please, make me come."

Hanzo shifts, dragging Genji impossibly closer, he slips his free hand around Genji's hip, down and into the back of his underwear.

The angle on his wrist is extreme but it doesn't take more than a finger, rubbing dry and promising against Genji's clenched hole and Genji is swearing and twisting and coming onto Hanzo's chest. Sweat from his brow dripping onto Hanzo's face.

"God," he mutters. "Hanzo."

"I will always love you Genji," Hanzo says. "You are always forgiven."

Genji shivers in his embrace.

Hanzo's cock is pressing against his ass. The friction of the boxers, the bulk of Hanzo's own hand beneath them, is enough to keep Hanzo on edge. Riled up. He tries his best to ignore it, but he cannot help the little hitches of his hips.

"Shall I help you out, big brother?" Genji asks, sighing. He looks wrecked, spent. His cock, deflating, ridiculous, splashed with his own release, slumps in the hole of his boxers.

"Thought you were taking my burden, Genji?"

Genji grins.

It is tired. Works slowly across his face. But it is his. Hanzo recognizes his brother in the sharp cut of Genji's incisor, catching on his bottom lip.

"How would you like it?"

"However you will give me. Would you use your mouth?"

Genji nods. He sort of melts out of Hanzo's lap. His weight is warm, malleable, across Hanzo's knees. Elbows pressed into either side, wrinkling the bed spread.

Hanzo's cock is not over large. Genji slurps it down with ease. Practiced and sure. His chest rubs sweaty against Hanzo's shin. Slick, erotic.

Hanzo thinks of the girl's thighs. Shiny with her own urine. Slick.

The thought makes him flinch and hiss. Genji doesn't get it, takes it as a good sign. Hollows his cheeks to suck harder, humming his approval in his throat. Hanzo is torn.

His mind, revolted, cringing away like an animal.

His body, too close to the edge already, overloaded with sensation.

He grunts once, final, Genji's name, bitten from between his teeth. And then he is tumbling, coming, awash in it. Genji makes another humming sound, in protest and surprisal but Hanzo's hands, clamping down in his orgasm, don't give Genji far to go.

Hanzo comes and he comes and he hates the hollow awful way it leaves him feeling.

The girl's blood-wet flesh beneath his palms. Her doe-eyes. Her breasts.

His body slumps back, falling to the bed, boneless. Genji is shuffling at his knees still. Hanzo can feel the movement. And then Genji is there, curled next to him in the bed.

His cock has been tucked away.

"That was fast, big brother," Genji says, smiling. He leans forward until his hair is brushing under Hanzo's chin, his forehead against Hanzo's throat. "Are you okay?"

Hanzo hums. Noncommittal.

Is he okay?

"Do you forgive me?" He asks.

Genji tilts his head. "There is nothing to forgive. You do what you must to protect me, I already know that."

"And so you know that we can't--"

Genji sits up, suddenly. He looks uncomfortable. "I should go," he says, quickly.

The sun has begun to peek through the curtains. Everything has gone grey in the morning light.

"Genji."

"It's okay, big brother. It's really okay. I get it. I don't want to talk about it. I am forgiven. You are forgiven. There will never be anything bad between us. I will always be yours, yours alone. Even if you cannot have me."

He leans forward. Hesitates only a moment before pressing a gentle kiss against Hanzo's lips.

Beautiful.

Lovely.

Hanzo closes his eyes.

Completely false.


	2. Apologies (useless trite)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter I guess??
> 
>  EDIT EDIT: Blessed again by the freaking art gods of tumblr.com! Please please please check this shit out! It will only make your day better I promise. Tastyboygenji delivering up to that naaaaame!
> 
> https://tastyboygenji.tumblr.com/post/158236387550/little-something-for-this-amazing-fic
> 
> EDIT: Yoooooooooooo we got more fan art!!! This time from the amazing and talented Whynotmyart on tumblr! Check them out their stuff is A++ and gorgeous! Warning there is a spoiler for the end of this chapter in the art so maybe check it out after reading??
> 
> http://whynotmyart.tumblr.com/post/157014228826/heres-some-fanart-for-vrunkas-incredible-fic-i

The knocking is hurried and loud. Not Genji's knock. Nor one of Father's personal attendants. Hanzo shifts from his desk. His reading abandoned.

He pulls the screen open.

And there, blushing and frowning, is Genji's new body guard. With Genji splayed across him, piggyback, head hanging over his shoulder. Genji grins as Hanzo gets the door fully open. He is drunk. Hanzo can tell.

His smile is too full of teeth and lewd promise for anything else.

It has been two weeks since the incident with the girl and the betrayal. Father had assigned Genji a personal guard, someone to be his shadow, to tag him both in and out of the compound. Genji had of course pitched a fit about it. But Father had been adamant. Secretly, Hanzo had agreed.

Now though.

"Haaaaaa-chan," Genji draws. "Brother."

The guard flushes. Shifts Genji's weight. "I'm sorry, Shimada-sama," the title rolls off his tongue easily, he ducks his head as he says it, "I did not know what else to do with him. Gen--that is the young master is--"

Hanzo frowns at the slip. The man is not much older than Genji, not much older than Hanzo himself. Father had threatened Genji with a guard, but leave it to the soft old man to give him someone young and honest and likable.

"I recognize what he is," Hanzo says, curtly. Genji giggles on the guard's shoulder. Licks his lips.

"He said he didn't want to return to his own room. He ordered me to bring him here. I am sorry for any intrusion. I just--"

Hanzo meets Genji's gaze. The sly wink that twitches across his face, only for Hanzo. Genji licks his lips again, leans his weight more against the poor guard's back. "Big brother," he whines, reaching a hand out to paw at Hanzo's face. "'M sleepy, brother."

His fingers are warm. Smooth and soft, without the callouses that Hanzo's have. They brush against Hanzo's cheek, catch on his lips until Hanzo cranes his head out of the way.

"Bring him in," he tells the guard. Affecting a sigh as he steps back to give them room to enter. "Put him on the bed, I guess."

"Yes, sir," the guard says. He hefts Genji's weight like it is nothing. Levels his brother gently to the mattress. Genji smiles as he is placed down, eyes closed. Sleepy-seeming. Completely satisfied. He curls against the pillows. His spine arching slightly, wrists turned out, fingers tangling in the pillowcases. His lips part in a rapturous little sigh.

Hanzo realizes with a start that he is not the only one watching the display.

The guard's eyes roam Genji's form. Up and down. Sweeping. Taking it in. He is blushing still. His hands are curled at his sides.

But he was watching.

And Hanzo has seen.

The jealousy worms it's way under Hanzo's skin. Shoves between his ribs.

"What is your name again?" Hanzo asks. The guard startles, turns to look at him. In all truthfulness, Hanzo isn't rightly sure he was ever told. But makes him feel superior to ask it as such. Like he has forgotten. Like the detail is beneath him.

The guard looks away from his gaze. Palms the back of his neck. Flushed still, red-cheeked. He is attractive, in plain sort of way, too-square chin, short hair. The more Hanzo watches him, the more he feels dislike settle in his gut.

"Takahashi," the guard says.

"Your first name?" Hanzo asks. Just to be cruel, to watch the man squirm just a little bit more.

"Ah, oh, uh. I'm sorry--I thought--" The man looks at Genji, who still has his eyes closed. His breathing has evened out, asleep. The guard looks back at Hanzo. "Ken," he says, swallowing around something. Nodding like an idiot. "I'm sorry. My first name is Ken."

Ken. Hanzo feels his lip curl slightly. Distaste. "Well, then," he says, tipping his head, "Ken-san, you can go. My brother doesn't need his shadow here."

Ken, damn him, damn him, hesitates. He palms the back of his neck again. Licks his lips in a motion that is frustratingly like his. brother. Something picked up in the week and a half they have been together.

He keeps glancing over at Genji, side-eye. Furtive. Like Hanzo won't notice, won't be able to parse the gaze for what it is.

"If you're worried about your pay," Hanzo says, "I can assure you, you will still get the full night. Father need not know you left your post early."

Ken startles again, his shoulders shift and twitch. Ridiculous for someone claiming to be a bodyguard, so easily thrown off his game. Raw nerves.

"It isn't that," he says and he sounds so fucking honest. Truthful. "The pay isn't that important."

Hanzo finds himself clenching his hands into fists. Has to think about relaxing them, loosening each finger. The guard, so absorbed between looking at Genji and watching his own feet, does not seem to notice.

"Is this your first guard job," Hanzo asks.

The man meets Hanzo's gaze, though only for a second. He shakes his head.

"First in private security though?" It must be. Takahashi Ken is far too easily shaken. So nervous Hanzo can practically smell it wafting off of him. "First job for someone of this caliber?"

"Ah, no. I mean. I guess sort of." He is pausing, stuttering. Interrupting himself. Hanzo watches the way Ken bites his lip. "If I can be honest," he says, smiling just a little, "you make me very nervous, Shimada-sama."

The confession is surprising. Hanzo tries not to show the way the honesty rakes at him.

Ken is broad, sturdy. Thick with good strong arms under his rolled up sleeves. Shoulders able to support Genji's weight with ease.

"You've been to prison?"

It would not be surprising or shocking. Many of Father's guards have been. A few years there gives them an edge, a shell.

Ken-san looks ashamed at the notion. Like he isn't working for the god damn yakuza.

He nods, gently. "Yeah. I mean. It wasn't for very long but..." he trials off. Genji makes another noise, stuttered sighing in his sleep. Both Hanzo and Ken watch him. Ken's gaze is soft and secretive and fond.

Hanzo understands it instantly.

Someone Genji would like, someone to mollify the elders, a guard in the most abstract of senses only. Their father is soft on his wayward son. Always has been, always will be.

He looks the part he does not play and Genji can continue as he always has.

Ken-san is an apology. For the girl, for the punishment, for Father's own weakness.

Hanzo hates him just a little more for that.

"And of course whatever you did was bad enough you can't get a decent, respectable job elsewhere." Hanzo says. It isn't a question. He doesn't leave room for it to be.

Ken frowns. "I'd do anything in my power to keep Genji-sama safe from harm," he says. "I'm sorry if it doesn't seem that way."

Hanzo rakes his gaze down Ken's form. The curled shoulders, the bowed head. "Because we're paying you to."

Ken shakes his head. Hurt settling on his face. "No," he says, "that's not why."

Hanzo feels absolutely livid at the confession. A guard, a no one, some random asshole daring to make such a claim. To Hanzo, Hanzo, of all people.

"So you want to fuck him," Hanzo says, "and you haven't yet, is that it?" Ken's gaze snaps to Hanzo's face. His eyes wide. Wounded. On the bed Genji flinches, not sleep feigned. His eyes flutter open, catch Hanzo's before squeezing shut.

Ken is scarlet. Stammering. "Shimada-sama. It's--that is I--"

Hanzo hates him, the simpering, stuttering tone he has adopted. The anger, the rage is baseless, unjustified. It coils and curdles under Hanzo's skin, itching his throat, behind his eyes.

"Genji," Hanzo says, cutting off Ken's weak protests, "you may as well stop pretending. I don't think Ken-san is leaving us any time soon."

Ken looks down at Genji on the bed.

Genji takes a deep breath. He sits up, shakes his head once, running his fingers through his hair. And then he meets Ken's gaze. Ken looks absolutely mortified. He covers his face with his hands.

"I'm sorry, young master," Ken says, bowing deeply. "I never intended to--"

Genji doesn't smile, quite. It's there, a smirk in his eyes, in the tilt of his head, but it never quite reaches his lips. He had to have known, of course, Genji isn't an idiot. Hanzo resents the fact that his brother may have indulged this crush. Clearly did if the way he stretches and yawns, rucking his shirt up to scratch the expanse of his stomach, is anything to go by.

"You're always apologizing, Ken-chan," he says, rolling his head. Leaning back on his elbows. "I'm not mad at you, you know."

"Young master, I--"

"I've told you not to call me that. What was it I said?"

Ken glances at Hanzo, back down at Genji. Caught between two unforgiving points. Blundered into this. He doesn't deserve it. He hasn't seen anything damning yet, it isn't too late. But Hanzo wants to see him wrecked, ruined, wants to punish him for Genji's transgressions.

For their father's weakness.

And Genji.

Well, Genji doesn't usually question Hanzo's assured lead. Hanzo can always tell himself it was for Genji's protection.

"We...don't need to be so formal," Ken says. His fingers twitch where he has lowered them to his sides. Genji reaches out, brushes his own fingers against the knuckles. Ken's breath catches.

He glances at Hanzo again, unsure. Panicking. Hanzo can read the different calculations across his expression. Animal instincts.

"You want us to be friends."

"Don't you want us to be friends, Ken-chan? Ken-tan? Ken-bō?"

The nicknames have Ken blushing again. The hand Genji is touching slips out of his grip, wipes across the bridge of his nose.

"Shimada-sama--"

"I'm not asking you to be his friend," Genji says, just a little sharply. He sits up more fully, leaning into Ken's space. Chin at Ken's hip. His lips are pink, inviting, perfect. "I'm asking if you want to be my friend."

His gaze flicks to Hanzo. Slides like oil back to Ken. His hands settle on Ken's thighs, smoothing the material of his slacks.

Ken hisses like he's been burned. He jerks, goes to step back, but Hanzo crowds behind him. Hanzo's hand at his back.

"Shimada-sama, please. I don't--"

"My brother asked you a question," Hanzo says. Simple, dry. Genji meets his gaze over Ken's shoulder, grinning openly now. "Pretty rude of you, not to answer him."

"I don't know what you want me to say," he says. There is a desperate, helpless edge to his words. Hanzo could almost feel bad for him, but he doesn't. Genji is untucking his shirt, fingers sliding around the waistband of his slacks.

"Only an idiot couldn't get it," Hanzo says. He spreads his hands flat, thumbs tracing Ken's spine. The muscles under his hands, even under the shirt, feel cut, well kept.

"Tsk, brother, be nice," Genji admonishes. "It's okay, Ken-tan, you can tell me you want it. I've seen you watching me." Genji bites his lip, another hooded wink, aimed at Hanzo. "I liked that you were watching."

The words are something out of a low budget porno, husky-voiced, shy. Genji presses his torso impossibly tighter to Ken's legs, his chest rubbing against Ken's crotch. Almost innocent, if Hanzo didn't know Genji so well.

"Genji...sa..." Ken shakes his head, catching himself. His hands, shaking, move forward. He touches Genji's cheek. Genji's hair.

"Do you want him?" Hanzo asks.

Ken nods. Damning himself. "Yes," he says, barely a whisper, a hissing stream of air. "Genji, I--"

He gets no further. Genji is already popping the button on his trousers, fingers sure and deft and practiced. Whatever Ken was going to say instead turns into a whimper.

Hanzo hooks his fingers into the back of the trousers, tugs them down once Genji has them loose enough.

Working in tandem.

Like they've done this before.

It has to be what Ken is thinking if the way his hand raises to hold Hanzo's shoulder is any indication. An anchor. His fingers clutch and spasm as Genji draws a finger up his cock.

"Ken-tan," Genji says. It's a coo, really, lilting and cutesy. "Your cock is so pretty. Is it gonna get big for me, Ken-chan? Can you make it big?"

Hanzo feels that jealousy again. It's got teeth and they tear. He has never heard Genji sound like this before. He wonders if it has to do with some intrinsic feeling, if Genji can read that Ken needs to be coaxed and coddled. Handled with child-like wonder.

Genji's cradling Ken's dick in his palms, and Ken is huffing, whining. Leaning more weight back against Hanzo. Surrender in the purest of forms.

His cock is rather nice looking, Hanzo supposes. Plain like the rest of him, but large, even only-half hard.

Genji handles it with precision, bringing it to his lips. Blowing teasingly on the head. Ken wriggles, makes a sound in the back of his throat. A plea for real friction.

Wordless animal sounds of desire.

Hanzo swallows down his jealousy. The least they can do is give him what he wants for now.

He should feel sorry for the thought. For what they are doing.

But he doesn't. Not even the slightest bit.

\--

"Tell him, Genji," Hanzo says, squeezing his hand around his own covered cock. "Tell him what you told me."

Genji bounces harder, the muscles of his thighs quivering, shaking. Ken bites his shoulder, thrusting up. Genji groans. Spread-eagled on Ken's lap, hands gripping Hanzo's shoulders for balance.

His cock shakes, wavers in the air.

Hanzo wants to lick it, suck it down, feel every one of Ken's thrusts sending it deeper into his throat. But he won't. It isn't time for that yet.

"Tell him," Hanzo says again, leaning in. Genji's breath puffs into his ear, heaving a sigh as he works himself of Ken's dick. "Whose cock do you belong to?"

Genji groans, outright. It is ripped from him. "Oh, God," he moans, "Hanzo. Big brother, please."

Ken, lost in his own pleasure as he is, still understands what is happening here. His brows come together. Concern. But it is superseded by Genji, writhing on his lap. Ken's eyes flutter shut.

He is close to his end.

In more ways than one.

Hanzo licks his lips. Slaps Ken's hands away as they reach for Genji's cock.

"Tell him, Genji. You need to tell him. Whose cock are you thinking of right now? Who is fucking you like this? Spreading you so open? Who are you thinking of?" Hanzo's voice is harsh, cruel. Genji tilts his head forward, seeking Hanzo's lips.

But that isn't what Hanzo wants.

"Tell him, before he comes, Genji. It's only fair."

Ken is listening. Peeking between his lashes. His hands have been relegated to Genji's hip, his chest. He meets Hanzo's gaze.

Genji grinds down and Ken moans.

"Tell him, Genji."

Genji shudders. "You. Oh, God, oh fuck, Hanzo. Big brother. It's you. It's always you. I'm yours. I'm only yours."

Ken's face goes through a strange series of shifts. Hanzo can see him, practically fighting back his orgasm.

But Genji's body is too good. Ken is too far gone. His eyes close.

Hanzo watches as orgasm washes over him. His expression breaking, lips against Genji's shoulder. His hips arch, stilled, pressing deep into Genji's thighs. Hanzo can see the way the skin slicks together.

Ken collapses back.

Genji whines on his lap, still writhing, still hard. Chasing something that is no longer there.

Hanzo grips Genji under the arms, tugs until Genji loops them around his neck. He pulls Genji into his lap, kisses him, thoroughly. Sloppy. More for Ken's benefit than anything else.

"Hanzo," Genji breathes against his lips, against his cheek. Desperate repetition.

"I've got you, brother."

Hanzo flips him, gently, so gently. Tracks his palm down Genji's sweat-drenched back. The muscles jump under his hands, twitching under the skin.

His hole is red, dripping. Filthy. Gaping. Hanzo rubs the flat of his thumb against it, catching on the fucked out rim. Foreign cum dripping past his fingers, down his wrist.

A mess.

Sloppy seconds.

Hanzo won't have it.

Genji is babbling nonsense when Hanzo lowers his mouth to the twitching, disgusting mess. His voice breaks, shatters, disintegrates, when Hanzo seals his lips over the opening and sucks.

When he scoops Ken's come out with his tongue. Bitter, sharp, foreign flavor in his mouth. He laps and kisses and sucks; Genji's scent and salty sting of come assaults his nose, makes his eyes sting.

He pulls away with a slurp. Obscene. Genji is sobbing, shoulders bent at extreme angles holding himself open for Hanzo's tongue, Hanzo's fingers. Desperate for sensation, for release. Grinding back into the lightest, teasing touches.

All his weight balanced on his face, smashed up on Ken's leg, drooling and moaning. Spittle tracking down Ken's shin.

Ken is sitting up again, watching them. There's a touch of confusion in his expression still. A little twitch of hurt.

Hanzo keeps eye contact with him as he slips his sleeping pants down. Enough room to get his cock out. Maybe it's not as impressive or big as Ken's, but the slide into Genji's body is just, if not more, satisfying.

Hanzo groans and Genji keens and Ken watches them.

Inevitable now.

Genji whines, his back arches into an angle that has to be painful. Hanzo fucks him. He slides in and out like it is nothing, no resistance with how fucked out and loose Genji's muscles are.

The residual come Hanzo missed with his tongue. The sloppy moisture of his own spit.

Genji grunts, his thighs spreading. Warm inside. Hanzo bites his lips. Grinds deep, no longer trying to thrust but just moving his hips to keep himself buried as deeply in Genji as possible.

"Brother," Genji is moaning. His teeth scrape down Ken's leg, leave marks. "Am I good? Am I yours?"

Hanzo nods, leans down to kiss Genji's cheek. His hair, loose, splays across Genji's back, tracks through the sweat. "You are mine," Hanzo says. "And you're perfect for me, Genji. You're so wonderful." Hanzo works a hand around Genji's hip.

Grips his cock.

A stroke and a twist of his hand against the head is all it takes.

Hanzo doesn't bother watching the orgasm wreck his brother's body. He watches Ken. It was always about him to begin with.

Genji's body tightens with his release, drawing up. Pressure almost too much around Hanzo's cock.

He comes with a groan.

Not a violent sundering. Just a shuddering clutch at Genji's back. Teeth nipping at Genji's shoulder. Genji panting beneath him, catching his breath.

"I love you, big brother," he says. Ken is all but forgotten. Hanzo takes that as a victory.

"I love you too, Genji."

Ken squirms. He pulls his leg out from under Genji's head. Genji looks at him, blinks. Grins.

"Thanks, Ken-tan," he says, "that was good."

Ken swallows. Hanzo can see him trying to work out the correct response. Hanzo wonders if he still thinks there's a way out of this, or if he has come to accept it.

Genji sits up, shivers. Pain in the lines of his back, Hanzo can read the stiffness there. Genji glances over his shoulder as Hanzo moves.

"Bring me a towel?" he says. Hanzo nods. Then Genji's attention is back to Ken. "You really do have a good cock," he says. "Did you at least have fun?"

"Genji...I. Yes," he says. "I'm not. I wouldn't tell anyone, you know?"

"Tell anyone what?"

"About...your--that is. You and Shimada--"

Genji smiles. "That's fine, Ken. You did fine. It was fun. You don't need to worry. Aren't right, big brother?" His gaze flicks over Ken's shoulder. He makes eye contact with Hanzo.

Ken turns.

The knife catches him in the eye. Slides in too easily. Smooth. Hanzo twists it. The serrated edge near the handle catches on Ken's orbital socket. Hanzo can feel it clip in his wrist. Bone grinding the metal to a halt.

Ken looks stunned. Shocked. Even with only one eye. His body convulses. Trying to cope with a knife in his brain. His muscles spasm.

Genji tuts. "If you can still hear me, Ken-tan, I'm sorry for lying. You really were fun though."

Hanzo doubts Genji's words actually register. Ken's body twitches again. Hanzo pulls the knife out. The blood come quickly. Welling out of the ruined socket, splashing with the arc of the blade. Ken slumps forward, onto the bed.

Hanzo makes quick work of slitting his throat.

Genji stands. Avoids the spatter. The streaking gore.

"I'm sorry," Hanzo says, watching Ken-san bleed his last. His body folding against the bed as life leaves it.

Hanzo is not really sorry. He would do the same a thousand times over if he had to.

"Nah, big brother." Genji shakes his head. Rubs his hands through his ridiculous green hair. "It's okay," he says.

"Your bed spread is ruined," he says.

Hanzo nods. The mattress will be too. The blood seeps, a spreading puddle in the sheets. It doesn't really matter.

Genji sighs. Stretches. Come dribbles down his thighs, a shiny trail on his skin. It has to be uncomfortable. Hanzo touches his side, knuckles pressing against Genji's ribs.

Genji grins. "I love you, Hanzo," he says again. He could almost mean it.

Hanzo nods. "I know," he says.

Ken--body rapidly cooling, blood congealing, face an open mask of shock--says nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything else should be tagged. As always much love to everyone who comments and leaves kudos, y'all are too nice to me lol


	3. Promises (lies falsehoods)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So 100% this chapter is dedicated to gayfishman because without Qyoo's adoration of Ken none of this would have come to pass.
> 
> That said: things are a little out of order. We're going back here. To see how Genji accepted being giftwrapped a body guard. It's not gonna end pretty, but that doesn't mean it was all bad.
> 
> Rampant Genji/Hanzo pining and OC Ken ahead. You've all been sufficently warned.
> 
> EDIT: More Qyoo art!! Leave a reblog, leave a like!! Qyoo is literally giving me life with all this lovely art:
> 
> http://vrunkas.tumblr.com/post/156548352012/ive-full-on-fallen-in-love-with-ken-genjis

"I don't want you following me," Genji says. Rolling his eyes.

The guard blushes. Moves his hands in an arc. Helpless. "I'm sorry, Shimada-sama, but I'm--"

"Shimada-sama?" Genji repeats. His tone sliding, laughter at the edges. "Jeeze you make me sound like an old man."

The guard pauses, falters, clearly stumped. It's been a day and a half. Maybe Genji hasn't given him enough of a chance.

"What's your name?" he asks, tilting his head. Narrowing his eyes.

"Ta-Takahashi Ken."

"Ken-san then. You don't have to follow me all the time. I'm not planning to leave today so..."

"I'm supposed to keep an eye on you on and off--"

"Ugh," Genji throws his hands up, twists them in the air for effect. "That's what I'm saying. I'm not going to get into trouble here." He tries not to think of Rise, her blood pattering against the floor.

Ken crosses his arms. Frowning. But it isn't intimidating like his stature belays. He just looks sad, a little muddled maybe. Like he's confused.

Genji rolls his eyes. "I promise you, Ken-san. I won't leave the house, okay? Just. Just don't follow me around when I'm here."

He doesn't want him following him around outside either, honestly. Genji has never particularly advertised the whole Son of a Yakuza thing. And Ken. He sort of fucking screams it with his pressed jacket and his shorn hair. His too square jaw, serious and tough.

"Shim--Genji-sama." Closer. It will take work, Genji rolls his eyes again. "I have my orders."

Stubborn. It reminds Genji of Hanzo. He hasn't seen Hanzo in a few days, since the incident with Rise. The memory of his brother's skin shivering under his palms is enough to make Genji's mouth go dry with want.

He needs to stay away from Hanzo. The problem will only get worse with time.

And as far as distractions go, he supposes Ken-san could be much worse.

He huffs a sigh, leans back against the wall.

"If I can't shake you, then I may as well go out. Do you have anything that doesn't," Genji waves a hand up and down, "look like that?"

"Is there something wrong with my clothes?"

Genji tips his head back, bounces it against the wall. His eyes slide closed. How can someone in the fucking mob be this clueless? Ken is watching him when he opens his eyes. Earnest. Hands on the lapels of his jacket. The brand is cheap. There is a stray seam at the cuff that Ken must not have noticed.

Genji shrugs. "No," he says, "I suppose there isn't."

Ken smiles, it doesn't look feigned. His face looks more natural with a smile, easy and open. Genji bites his lip.

"So where to, young master?" Ken asks.

Genji doesn't know. Where he was planning to go, assuming he could have slipped Ken's eye, is not somewhere he can take a guard. Much less a guard as conspicuous as Ken. He scrubs a hand across his eyes.

"I don't know yet. Get me a car," Genji says. Impressed when Ken pulls a cell from his jacket, smooth and practiced. Used to obeying orders.

Interesting.

Genji pulls out his own phone. Scrolls through his contacts. He reaches the Rs. Rise's name is there. Flanked by heart emojis that he doesn't remember putting.

He deletes the contact with a vicious little stab of his thumb. Deleted. Gone. He can stop thinking about it now.

Anytime.

Seriously.

\--

They end up at a restaurant. Genji tells his friends he's craving yakitori (a lie) and a few of them agree to head over to meet him. A few others call him an old man. Genji doesn't care. The fewer people the better.

At least until he can figure out a way to ditch his guard.

The restaurant is pretty crowded, all things considered. Noisy. Cramped. Genji finagles with the hostess, flirts and grins and flashes his teeth until she gets them a private booth near the back.

Ken doesn't seem to be watching the interaction. Genji is a little disappointed his show gets missed. But the hostess giggles and touches his arm as she leads him to the table, so maybe it isn't a complete loss.

Ken is observing the other patrons. Silent. Frowning in a way that Genji has decided must be his natural expression. An aloof, stern little turn to his lips. Vacant, now that Genji is looking for it, but intimidating on its own.

Genji's friends crowd into the booth, rowdy and yelling. Genji sits on the end. Tries to remember that this is his element, this is what he is good at.

Ken stands, arms crossed, by the divider to the restaurant proper. Mortifyingly yakuza.

"Is that your babysitter?" Amiee-chan asks. She laughs behind her hand, to one of the girls that Genji does not know. Genji licks his lips. Blushes.

He grabs Ken by the elbow. The material of the suit wrinkles beneath his fingers. Ken looks startled. Genji rolls his eyes, pulls until Ken half-stumbles into the booth.

A few of his friends glance as the man, broad and intimidating enters their space, but many are too busy screaming and laughing with one another to notice.

"Young master--" Ken beings. Genji slaps a hand over his mouth before anyone can overhear it.

He glares.

Ken's lips are soft beneath his palm. He thinks of Hanzo's cock, the warm, pliant skin. He closes his eyes. "Don't call me that," he hisses, leaning close to be heard.

Ken watches his lips move. Genji watches him watching.

Another development. Something to be pondered later.

"Just call me Genji, if you have to. At least...for now, okay?"

He takes his hand off Ken's mouth and Ken nods.

"I should be standing watch," he says. He keeps his voice pitched low, matching Genji's volume.

Genji shakes his head. "It's weird," he says. "I don't like it. I'm not...you aren't here to protect me from anyone out there, okay?"

He bites his lip, hard enough to hurt. Ken's eyes keep flickering down to watch his lips.

"There's enough room, I promise," Genji says, "so just. Sit here and watch if you have to. Please."

Ken looks on the verge of debate. But then Aki-kun screams and Lee-san's answering bray of laughter breaks between the two of them.

Ken looks away.

"If that's what you want," he says.

Genji nods. Thankful. Maybe he can still get through this with a saved face. Maybe having a bodyguard won't have to be the end of his social world.

\--

Or maybe it will be.

The next night and Ren-san calls to see if Genji wants to come to a new night club. He promises the scene is killer. He's already got a list of girls coming who are loose and flirty and he's sure Genji will have a good time.

He promises.

Genji looks at Ken who is standing by his door. Slightly more relaxed. He's not wearing his suit jacket. His arms hang at his sides, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

His skin isn't tattooed or marked like so many of Father's guards. It's actually a little shocking.

"So you're coming?" Ren-san says. He sounds hopeful.

Genji sighs glad that Ren-san cannot see his expression. The terrible indecision there. It's not that he doesn't want to go but...

"I...would have to bring someone," Genji says.

Ren-san makes a sound, exclaiming noise of surprise. "Ohh? Is it a new girlfriend?"

"Not quite. Just. I'll be there but put me down for two."

"A surprise? You're a fox, Genji-san," Ren says with a laugh. "I'll tell the doorman two."

He hangs up without another word. Genji stares down at his phone like it has betrayed him.

"Are we going out again, Genji-sama?"

"Just Genji."

Ken makes a face. Shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Genji," he corrects.

"Better. Yeah, we're going out."

"Am I dressed better?"

So it was intentional. Genji grins, pulls himself out of his chair. He touches Ken's collar, bends the material between his fingers.

"Much. Do you have a shirt on under that?"

Ken flushes, looks away. "A tank top."

Genji rolls his eyes. None of his shirts will fit someone Ken's size. Genji may have grown out of his early teen lankiness, but he's not nearly as fit as Ken. His arms are skinnier. His shoulders thinner.

Maybe Hanzo's clothes. So they can unbutton that ridiculous button up.

Hanzo's clothes. The few casual things he may own. Stupid slogan t-shirts mostly bought by Genji himself. Anything with horribly embarrassing English phrases. Hanzo never wears them, he probably doesn't even have them anymore.

Ken is staring.

Genji rolls his shoulders and tries to play his silence off.

"Pop the top button," he says. "You look like an accountant."

"Isn't that better than a gang member, Genji-sa--" he catches himself, bites his lip.

"Not by much. Think of it this way, your my awkward friend, right? From the country, clearly. And I'm just...showing you Hanumura. And everything we have to offer.

"You want to be my friend, don't you, Ken-san?"

"I...guess?"

It's a question. But Genji catches the question within the question. Ken not meeting his gaze. Looking away.

Genji taps his nail against the top button. It clicks. And clicks. Until Ken reaches up and undoes it.

"Better," Genji says. "Now I'm gonna get dressed. Are you gonna watch me?"

He means it as a tease. But Ken goes crimson, so sincere and innocent that it almost hurts. His hands clench at his sides. The blush spreads down his neck.

Genji chuckles.

"You can wait right outside. I'll be ready in fifteen."

\--

It takes more like thirty.

Genji cannot decide on an outfit. The tight-fitting skinny jeans that hug his ass. The ripped up pair, looser, but ultimately more revealing. Booty shorts. Options, options. Fishnet and sheer and billowy tops that fit the definition in only loosest terms.

He settles.

Skinny jeans yes.

Tank top and button down.

To match Ken. To at least make some of it look intentional.

Ken is still waiting when Genji opens the door, not surprising. He has his phone out, that part is, slightly.

"Important text?" Genji asks. He isn't sure where the venom comes from, but he can feel it in the hollow of his throat.

Ken slips the phone into his slacks, shakes his head. "Calling for the car," he says.

Genji sneers.

He doesn't believe him. Ken works for his father, he should probably be doing better to remember that.

Ken's phone chirps.

"Answer it."

Ken pulls it out. It chirps again. Annoying. A text, Genji can see the dialogue bubble on the screen.

"Car's here," Ken says. He turns his phone out. It is indeed what the text says.

Genji sort of deflates. "Yeah okay," he says. "Let's go."

And go they do. Ken walks a little behind. Less than an arms length away but enough space that Genji can almost feel like he's walking alone.

Ken steps past him to open the main doors to the house. His arms reach past Genji's head. Long and lean and unmarked. His hands are wide, fingers spread on the hardwood. He smells like cologne.

Genji half-turns. Ken is staring at his ass. He catches himself when Genji looks at him. His gaze flicks guilty to Genji's eyes, down to his chin.

Genji takes another breath. He licks his lips. Ken's eyes follow the motion.

His Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

"Is everything okay...Genji?" he asks.

Genji blinks. Shrugs. He had been going to say something. Ken's fingers curl on the door. That's right.

"You don't have to hold the door for me. We're pretending like you don't work for my father, remember?"

"I work for you," Ken says with a shrug.

"Liar. Just don't. For tonight, please. You don't work for anyone."

Ken frowns. He shrugs again. "If that is what you want."

"It is."

Genji opens his own car door as Ken slips into the front seat. This is what he wants.

This is it.

\--

The club is exactly what Genji was dreading. Atmospheric and dim. Neon lights, flashing strobes. Bodies grinding on a dance floor, a sea of them, blinking in and out of reality with the lights. Arms raising out of the tide, blue and slick. The lights cycle to red.

Genji has to look away.

He goes to the bar, immediately. Ken trails him.

"You drinking," he asks Ken. Yelling to be heard over the music. The pounding, pulsing, monotonous beat of it.

The bar under his elbows vibrates in time with it. Ken leans forward. The strobing lights turn his face green, yellow, blue. Red.

Horribly.

Her face.

Hanzo carved off her fucking face.

For Genji.

"I shouldn't," Ken says. His voice is lower than Genji's, gets lost more easily in the music. "I'm sorry, Genji."

Whatever.

Genji waves his hand. Pushes Ken away from him. "Fine," he says. "Be a spoil sport, asshole." He turns back to the bar, catches the bartender's attention.

He feels Ken, frowning behind him. Melting back slightly. Drifting down the bar. When he looks up, Ken is leaning against it, surveying the crowd. He looks slightly more in place here. Still a sore-thumb, but it's better.

Genji sighs. He should apologize.

"Your name is Genji right?" A voice on his other side asks.

Genji turns his head, startled. There is a girl, leaning close to him. Her approach masked by the pounding beat and flashing lights. Or Genji is just really off his game. Ken is watching the two of them, but he has made no move to intercede yet.

Genji recognizes the girl. Aimee-chan's friend. He still doesn't remember her name.

"Yeah," he yells, leaning closer. Her hair brushes his cheek, dark and silky smooth. Escaped from the low ponytail she has pulled it back in. His gut clenches.

She's wearing a tank top, it shimmers in the light. She's put some kind of glitter on her skin too. Across the tops of her boobs. Boy boobs, small, nearly nonexistent.

Genji drags his gaze back up to her face. "I remember you from yesterday."

She nods. Bites her lip, tucks the stray strand of hair behind her ear. The bartender places Genji's drink on the counter. She grabs it without asking, drinks from it. Bold. Genji can work with bold.

The lights have turned to a gold and green mix, the jarring red is gone. She looks luminous, her lips shine. Ken is watching them.

"Do you wanna dance," she asks.

Genji does not. But he nods. Touches her shoulder. He takes his drink from her fingers. They're slightly damp, cold from the ice. Bad circulation, probably, so cold so quickly. He tosses the drink back. The liquor burns but not badly.

He lets her lead him into the dance floor. He makes eye contact with Ken as he goes, tips his head at the girl who is leading him away. Ken watches. He does not follow.

And then the crowd has swallowed him up. And Ken is gone.

The claustrophobic clutch of it. Bodies and sweat. Limbs. She rolls her shoulders getting into the beat. Biting her glossy lips. The lights pulse. Genji lets himself be led by her swaying. His hand touches her breasts when she turns to grind to the rhythm against him, his fingers tucked tight against her nipple, slipping under the flimsy barrier.

She doesn't stop him.

No one is watching them.

He glances back for Ken but there is nothing but a wall of bodies.

His other hand holds her hip, keeps her moving close against him. She shifts her head, breathing against his cheek.

"You're so hot," she says. He can't really hear the words, he feels her lips move against his cheek. He assumes it's what she is saying. Her nipple is hard under his fingers. She shudders.

And the beat changes.

And the lights go out.

And the lights come back.

And everything is red.

Gore-drenched.

He needs to be away from it. He pinches her, probably too hard, her lips form some sort of complaint on his cheek.

"Sorry," he says, he kisses her forehead. She's still moving to the beat against him. "Hey," he says, angling his voice into her ear. "Wanna go somewhere more private maybe?"

She looks at him. Blood-stained.

\--

"Just so you know," she says, "I never do this kind of thing." She twists her hand against his crotch, fingers on his fly.

Genji doesn't care one way or the other. It's taking his mind off the thoughts of Rise. He keeps thinking of Hanzo.

If he covers this girl's eyes, she could almost be him. Same mouth, slightly sharper chin. He rubs his hands through her hair, frees it from the ponytail to hang about her face. It's shorter than Hanzo's, comes only to her chin, choppy layers. Less like Hanzo. But Genji doesn't know how to tell her to put it back up.

She pulls his cock out. He looks at her fingers against it, delicate and feminine. Glittery nail polish that matches her top.

The bathroom sink digs into his spine. Genji braces his hand against it trying to alleviate some of the pressure.

The door behind her opens.

It bumps her, her breath ghosts moist over Genji's cock, her weight falling against his legs. She turns her head, irate.

"It's say occupied, asshole!" She snaps.

There in the doorway is Ken. Like it could be anyone else. Genji's cock twitches in her grip when Ken meets his gaze.

"Jesus," the girl says, "you're the guy from yesterday." She glances up at Genji. "Is he actually your fucking babysitter?"

Ken licks his lips. His gaze keeps dropping to Genji's lap. Her hands have left his dick. It hangs from his pants, abandoned.

Genji stands, steps around the girl. Crowds into Ken's space. Lips an inch from Ken's jaw. The skin jumps and twitches, Genji can read Ken's pulse in his throat. He braces a hand on Ken's shoulder, looks over at the girl.

"He's actually my boyfriend," Genji says.

She blinks. Swallows. Licks her lips. Thinking it through. Then slowly, she says: "I don't really do threesomes, dude. It's not my thing."

Genji laughs. He has to.

His dick is still hanging from his fucking pants. Out the fly.

She stands, straightens her top. Gives him sort of a half-shrug. A sorry it didn't work out roll of her shoulders. Genji pulls Ken tighter against him, giving her room to leave.

Ken is breathing against him. Looking down at Genji's cock, looking away when he realizes he's been caught doing it. Genji smirks, tucks himself away.

"Why did you tell her that?" Ken asks.

"To see that expression on your face," Genji says. "So scandalized." He grins, runs his knuckle down Ken's jaw. "Where did my father find someone like you?"

"Genji..."

"Forget it. Let's get out of here. This place is annoying anyway."

\--

Genji spends the next two days at home. He sleeps away most of the time. Ken is always there, outside his door, waiting to do his duty.

They have not and will not speak about the club. Genji watches Ken watching him. He debates what it is exactly he wants to do about it anyway.

"Are they actually paying you for twenty-four hour surveillance?" Genji asks on the morning of the third day when he heads out for breakfast and Ken meets him at the door.

A new shirt. A tie and jacket. Probably different slacks. Genji doesn't know where he is finding the time to change, or sleep for that matter.

Ken shrugs. "It's good money," he says, "plus they've got you bugged so really, I don't have to do much." He is grinning. Genji realizes, with a start, that this is the first time he's ever heard the man come close to cracking anything like a joke.

It isn't funny, of course.

But that isn't the point.

Genji touches his neck, fingers curling around the back, pressing hard enough against the top of his spine to hurt.

"Are you okay, Genji-sama?"

"Just Genji."

"Genji."

Genji shakes his head. "That shit's not funny, you know."

Ken blinks. Some of the tension returns to his shoulders. An awkward tilt to them. He licks his lips. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't know but the elders they...the whole council--Father. They would bug me, if they thought it would do any good bringing me to heel."

Ken looks down and away. He is frowning.

"I'm..." he looks back up, his expression is soft, open. Fond. Genji doesn't know how the man, this innocent, naïve man, managed to fall so in love in less than a week. But the evidence is there, stacked against him.

"I promise," Ken says. "I only meant it as a joke."

Genji rolls his eyes. "Don't...worry about it."

Ken nods, smiles again. Genji fidgets at the door. He rubs his hands down his thighs, scratches his chin. He doesn't know what to say.

The idea of a bug has all but killed his appetite.

And Ken looks so comfortable in the stretching silence.

"Can you arrange a car, for tonight?"

"Of course."

Genji nods, begins to turn, to go back to his room. To sleep it off again, the weirdness and sense of wrong that has settled in his limbs. Ken's hand touches his elbow.

"Where are we going?" he asks. The phone in his hand is shaking, just a little bit. His muscles trembling.

Genji thinks of the club. Ken's guilty gaze. Ken's blush. A thrilled little twinge in his gut at the thought settles it.

He is going to ruin this man.

"We're going," he says, pausing for dramatic effect, "to a titty show. I know a couple of good places. We should leave about eight. That's when the really good stuff starts."

Ken blanches. Visible loss of color in his cheeks. But he keys something into the phone all the same.

\--

The car is there to get them, promptly at eight.

Genji doesn't bother trying to dress Ken for a part this time. It's useless and, besides, there's something fun about knowing he's going to watch Ken get wrecked in those nice clothes.

The place Genji picks is classy, higher end. Dim lighting but not the oppressive like the club's had been. Mood lighting. Red lanterns. A traditional feel to the whole place.

If girls in g-strings grinding on poles can be considered traditional.

Ken stands at his elbow, staring at the floor while Genji makes arrangements with the manager. A private room, a private show. Triple price. Genji rolls his eyes, lowers his voice while he negotiates the last parts. The final details.

A hostess, wearing a suit and killer heels leads them away from the counter. Genji grins at Ken the whole time. The room she takes them to is green-themed. Traditional paintings of waterfalls on the walls. Little crystal lights. A chair in the center of the room. A couch on the wall.

Ken looks around.

"Shall I wait outside," he asks. Genji can tell he wants to. He's blushing so much it looks like it could stain. Permanently red-cheeked.

"Nah," Genji says, settling himself on the couch, putting his feet up. No room for Ken, not that he'd sit anyway. "Aren't you gonna ask where the others are?"

Ken blinks. Shrugs. "Where are the others, young master?"

Genji rolls his eyes. "Not coming. Just you and me tonight, as friends. So no more of that young master shit, okay?"

Ken nods. Swallows. He is looking around, glancing this way and that. Clearly uncomfortable. He scratches at his neck, the swell of his Adam's apple.

"You can have a seat," Genji says. He tips his head. He doesn't move his feet.

The chair in the center of the room faces away from the couch. It's a heavy looking thing, upholstered in gold to match the decor. Dark brown hardwood legs.

Ken looks down at it.

"Genji..."

"Everything's gonna be fine, Ken-san, I promise. Turn it around. Face me. This is gonna be fun okay?"

"I don't..."

"Aw come on. Live a little for me, Ken-san."

Ken turns the chair. Under the jacket Genji cannot see the way his muscles bunch and shift, but he can imagine it. He licks his lips.

Ken sits.

He crosses his legs, shin resting on his knee. He hands plucking nervously at the inseam of his trousers.

"Are you happy?" Ken asks. He sounds sulky. Genji doesn't really intend to find it as cute as he does.

"Very. You don't have to look so nervous. Look, if you really, really don't want to do this," Genji relents, "we can leave. You just seem so uptight. I thought this might help."

"Do I really seem that way?"

Genji nods. Grinning. Ken's tone, the subtle hurt in his voice is enough of a victory. Genji will get his way. He usually does.

"Definitely. You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders, you know. Lotta stress." Genji tilts his head, back and forth. "Hanzo does too. You both just need to learn to loosen up a little."

Ken swallows. There is a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, gathered under his chin, in the hollow of his throat.

"Here, lemme have your jacket," Genji says. He lowers his feet, holds his hand out.

Ken slips his arms out of it. Folds it once before handing it over. Their fingers brush within the folds. Ken's are shaking.

"Are you scared? They don't bite you know, unless you pay extra."

Genji watches him breathing. The nervous shift of his eyes. "Do you really want me to do this, Genji-sama?"

Genji nods. Lays the jacket across his knees. "It's just a lap dance, Ken."

Ken's eyebrows flex. Expressive. Uncomfortable.

But he settles back in the chair, fingers wrapping around the seat. No touching. He must have done something like this before at least.

The door on the other side of the room opens.

A woman enters. Topless. Smelling of lavender. Her hair is pulled back into a braid, pinned to her head. She smiles at Genji, gives a half-bow. Then she turns her attention to Ken.

Ken isn't looking at the woman at all.

Staring past her, right at Genji. He lifts a hand to loosen his tie.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she says. Her voice is low. Husky. Ken looks up at her. His gaze does not seem to pause at her breasts, Genji is more than a little impressed at that. "My name is Scarlet," she says, "and I'll be taking care of you this evening."

As if on cue--on cue, Genji knows, he's frequented enough of these places--a low, throbbing beat begins to seep into the room. Hidden speakers in the walls.

Very classy.

Ken gives one more desperate look to Genji. The tiniest shake of his head.

"So," Scarlet says, ignoring or not noticing the protest of the man sitting in front of her. Ignoring probably. Genji's got a lot of money riding on this. These girls are not the type to question the sort of sums he has paid. "Let's get started, shall we?"

The lap dance is, for all intents and purposes, quite tame. Scarlet does a good job, shimmying her hips in time with the music, holding the back of the chair to keep herself hovering just above Ken's crotch.

Genji is at the wrong angle to see much of her front. A glimpse of her cheek here or there when she turns her head. But he isn't really watching her anyway.

Ken is breathing through his nose. His grip is white-knuckled on the edge of the chair. His eyes are squeezed shut. Genji can see the way the fabric of Ken's shirt wrinkles just slightly when her breasts brush against it.

Her spine and her hips move in a wave.

She drops herself lower.

And Ken groans like he is dying. The sound stuttering out of his throat. Ripped out of him. He opens his eyes. He looks at Genji.

Scarlet turns in his lap, he hands on his thighs now as she works her hips in a tight little circle. Grinding the obvious tent at the front of his slacks.

Genji's mouth is dry. He licks his lips, but it doesn't help.

Ken looks so helpless, biting his lip. Labored breathing from his nose. Hissing between his teeth.

Scarlet looks at Genji with a grin, a wink.

"Think it's time?" she asks. She only sounds a little breathless from the workout she's been getting.

Genji looks at Ken. The arch in his brows. The red in his cheeks.

"He'll probably need a hand," Genji says. He stands. Wipes his hands down his front, ridding himself of imaginary dust. He slips Ken's jacket on. The sleeves are too big, the shoulders sag, but Genji doesn't mind. It smells like Ken's cologne. Ken makes a sound as Genji moves behind him, Genji's hands sliding down his arms. Chest pressed to the back of the chair. Breathing against the back of Ken's neck.

"You're doing great," Genji says, his fingers curling around Ken's elbows. Wrinkling the fabric of his shirt, sweat stains from Genji's palms. "But I got a little surprise for you."

Ken shudders beneath him.

Scarlet climbs off his lap. She stares down at the two of them.

Ken's obvious erection. A wet spot on the front of his slacks, worked up and worked over so easily. Genji is thrilled. He bites his lip to keep himself from kissing the back of Ken's neck.

Can't throw the game too early. There is still too much fun to be had here.

"Do you want it?" Genji asks.

Ken turns his head. His nose bumps Genji's cheek. "I don't know," he says. "I don't...Genji, I--"

Genji grins. "It's alright, Ken-tan, I'm right here. Look at her, look how fucking hot she is." Genji licks his lips again. Tilts his head. "She's gonna give you the surprise, okay? But you still can't touch. You have to keep your hands on the chair."

Ken makes another helpless noise as Scarlet's quick hands undo his fly. A vulnerable noise in the back of his throat. Fluttering. Trapped.

The muscles of his forearms are like iron in Genji's grip. He looks away as she works his dick out. Genji does not.

Genji watches and catalogues every detail. Ken's cock is bigger than Hanzo's, a little more red, longer but about the same thickness. Leaking from the tip. Copious amounts of pre-cum. Spilling down the length of it.

"Wow," Genji says. "Look at your cock."

Ken shakes his head. His eyes are squeezed shut. Tipped away from Genji's face.

"Oh, come on," Genji says, "look at it. Are you ashamed? You shouldn't be. It's a nice dick." He looks up at Scarlet. She runs a finger around the head and Ken shudders again. Another pulse of liquid, she smears it with her thumb. "Isn't it nice, Scarlet?"

She hums something, not the answer Genji was looking for, but good enough. Ken rolls his head, boneless on his neck. He peers through his lashes at the woman leaning his lap. His cock curving towards her boobs.

"Are you ready," Genji asks. Just to be cruel. It so painfully obvious that Ken is out of his depth here, treading water, but barely surfacing. Genji doesn't wait for Ken's answer anyway. He shoots Scarlet a wink.

She leans further in. Lines his cock up with the space between her breasts. She pushes them together.

Ken bites his lip so hard the pink goes white. His hips hitch. She produces lube from...somewhere, Genji isn't even sure where she could have been hiding it in her thong, but he doesn't care.

She uses one hand to squeeze the liquid between her pinched tits. It leaves a sheen, viscous, light catching. Genji huffs a sigh. His cock is throbbing in his own trousers. Ken is panting into his neck. Watching Scarlet from the corner of his eye.

His lashes are thick and clumped. Wet. His hips flex again and the head of his cock pops out from between her breasts. A string of pre-cum catches on her flesh, connected, breaks. She moves in time with him. His cockhead disappears again. Swallowed up.

He keens when she picks up the pace. Genji admires the view, and the ab work it must take to tit-fuck someone this thoroughly. Scarlet barely seems out of breath still, breathing through her mouth, but that's about the only sign.

Ken is gasping like he's dying.

On every down stroke, his cock appears more red and shiny then the last time. Arching up toward her chin.

"Wow, Ken-tan," Genji says, "you're so wet."

Ken nods. His forehead brushes Genji's lips. The taste of Ken's sweat, salty.

"Are you gonna come so soon, Ken-tan?" he asks. "I bet you look good when you come too."

And he does.

Ken moans, outright at the words, his hips snapping. His hands lift, clutch at Genji's arms where they lay over him. His nails dig into the skin even through the fabric of the jacket. He shoots his load all over Scarlet's chin, the top of her breasts. Ropes of cum on her collarbone.

She chuckles. Sits back on her heels. His cock slips from between her breasts, softening, spattered with his own release and shiny from the lube.

Genji presses his hips against the chair leg. It's too unyielding, the wood, and he humps too hard. Staves off his own orgasm, tamps down his own pleasure.

Time for it later.

Later.

Ken slumps, boneless in the chair. His fingers are still gripping Genji's arms, but they loosen and fall away with very little fight. Genji stands, straightens his clothes again.

Ken looks up at him.

He looks helpless. Innocent. Genji grins, reaches down to pull him to standing. Ken stumbles a little, finds his feet. His weight is warm against Genji's side. His hands, clumsy, thick and bumbling, tuck his spent cock into his trousers. His fingers brush against Genji's hip.

"Genji-sama," he says, breathless.

"It's just Genji."

"Genji."

"Yeah, Ken-chan?"

Ken swallows. He looks away. He stands up straighter. Blushing still, awkward as always. "I'm...thanks. I guess."

Genji chuckles, rolls his shoulders. "Pretty weird thanking someone for sex, Keeeen-chan. But it's not like I'm one who did the work. Thank Scarlet-chan, if you have to thank someone, she's the one who played with your cock."

Ken glances over at her. Standing by the door, looking bored now that her job is done. Expecting a tip perhaps. Genji pulls a few bills from his pocket, waves them until Ken takes them from him.

He half-bows to her and Genji cannot help but laugh. He's blushing when he pushes the money into her palm, stuttering another thank you. Fucking ridiculous.

Genji puts an arm around his shoulder, squeezes Ken to him. "Let's go home, huh? You've probably had enough excitement for one night."

\--

It turns out, Genji is more than just a little bit right about that. Ken falls asleep in the car. Head mashed against the window, drooling a little bit.

It's pretty gross.

But Genji kind of likes it.

It takes both he and the driver to lug Ken's ass into the house.

That part Genji likes less.

But he'll live with it. They haul Ken into his room. Lay him out on the cot. The driver doesn't ask any questions, this is not the first time he has dragged someone unconscious through the house. Of course, Genji doesn't really remember the other times as it usually him being dragged, but that is beside the point.

Ken is out like a light. Snoring. If there was a time to ditch him, it would be now. The night is still young and the driver is still on the tab.

Genji sighs. Shakes his head.

He dismisses the driver. Sends him away. He could go and see Hanzo, but that is probably not such a good thing to do.

He's weak, where Hanzo is concerned. He cannot help the shivering, jelly-kneed way he feels when he is around his brother. If he goes to Hanzo now, they will have sex and there won't be any pretenses or forgivenesses to hide behind this time.

Safer to stay here and remain ignorant to the sinful thing that he and Hanzo have cultivated between them. Ken is a distraction, but it could be worse.

Genji slips out of his clothes, throws them in a pile on the floor. Ken's jacket he keeps, holding it between his hands.

His cock, still unsatisfied from earlier, gives a jerk. He looks at Ken, sleeping on the bed. Messy and undone. Genji approaches. He kneels at the edge. The bottom edge of Ken's jacket tickles his cock. He presses the material against it. Tweed twill beneath his palm, smooth silk lining against his cock.

Genji bites his lip. His mouth is so dry his teeth make a grinding noise against the skin. Tearing sound. Pathetic. He grips his own cock, keeping the jacket there like a barrier. Like it's Ken's hand.

Or Hanzo.

Fuck. God fuck.

He shouldn't be thinking of Hanzo. It's wrong, it's always been wrong.

He forces himself to look at Ken.

Think of Ken.

Ken's big hands and his red dick dripping and coming and his eyes watery like he's crying and his eyebrows, bushy and unkempt, furrowing as he comes. And his lips all pink and then white and then red. His lips on Genji's dick.

He would suck it too. He probably wouldn't even argue if Genji framed it as an order. He's probably just hang his head and accept it. Get down on his knees and--

Genji hiccups, shivers. He opens his eyes. Ken is still asleep, his chest rises and falls in an even rhythm. Genji ponders whether he is asleep enough to notice if Genji started touching him. If Genji started groping him. Rubbing their cocks up together.

He won't.

He doesn't want Ken to wake.

But the fantasy of it is fun.

Ken humping up against him in his sleep. An animal instinct. His cock leaking against Genji's. His breath catching between his lips. Those brows flexing as he sleep fucks Genji's hands. Genji riding him.

Oh yeah, there's the thought.

Genji groans, rolls his hips against his own fist. He imagines Ken's big cock rubbing his insides, stretching him, spearing him open.

He imagines Hanzo's cock.

He imagines them both, having him at once. Too much girth, they would hardly be able to move for fear of tearing him. And the pressure, the fucking feeling of being so full would be enough.

Genji shudders. Twists his hand. The jacket is soaked, the jacket is ruined. He falls forward as he comes into it, panting and grunting like an animal.

He opens his eyes as the last wave of it leaves him.

Ken is watching him.

His eyes track around Genji's face, drop to Genji's lap, to where his jacket is covering Genji's softening cock.

The two of them breath.

Genji moves first. He sits up, lets the jacket drop from his grip. He stands by the bed.

"Genji," Ken says.

Genji shakes his head, waves his hand. "I'm going to the bath," Genji says. "If you're done with your nap, maybe get out of my bed? Okay, Ken-chan?"

Ken swallows. The confusion across his face is sort of funny. Sort of cute. Genji wonders if he'll argue, if he'll just reach out and take what he so clearly wants.

But Ken just drops his gaze. Swallows again and nods. "Okay," he says. "If that's what you want."

It isn't.

But Genji can't have what he wants. So he'll make do with what he can. He rolls his shoulders, grabs a robe from the closet. And heads for the bath.

\--

Another few days pass uneventful.

Ken is awkward in the way that he has always been. He doesn't intrude on Genji's comings and goings anymore than he had before, nothing more than just his silent presence. They don't talk more, they don't touch.

Genji goes out with his friends to another eatery and Ken doesn't argue when Genji tells him to sit.

Genji goes out another night to another bar with his friends and Ken doesn't argue when Genji passes him a beer.

He doesn't drink it either.

But at least he has it, holds it in his hand and plays the part Genji has assigned him.

A third night, another outing. Genji drinks too much, too quickly. Ken doesn't stop him, or chide him. Genji lets a stranger fuck his face in the restroom of the bar. And Ken does not barge in or stop it.

Ken waits outside for him.

"Are you mad at me or something?" Genji asks, yells really, when Ken walks him to his room that night. His jaw still hurts from that stranger's dick and his throat feels chafed and raw.

Ken shakes his head. Looks away. Palms the back of his neck. "I'm not mad at you, Genji."

"Then why are you--" Genji cuts himself off with a sigh. He slumps back against the wall. Sobriety tickles at the edges of his conscious. He can feel the end of the whirling torrent of alcohol he had drank. Not enough apparently.

"Don't you want to be my friend," he says, accusingly. Eyes narrowed.

Ken frowns. "You're drunk, Genji-sama," he says.

"That's not what I'm asking."

Ken swallows. "I would--," he looks down. Genji pushes himself off the wall to lean into his space. His arms around Ken's shoulders, his forehead bumping against Ken's neck.

"I would be your everything, Genji-sama, if you would let me."

His everything.

Genji already has an everything. The realization curdles low in his belly. He has an everything, someone who would do anything for him.

Would cut a screaming girl's face off. Would take every burden Genji has.

Genji doesn't need another everything.

He swallows. Giggles into Ken's skin. Finds the line he needs to play up more drunk then he is.

He needs to go see Hanzo.

He needs his everything.

"Carry me," he says, pressing himself, fully-bodied against Ken.

"What?"

"I'm too tired to walk and everything is spinning, will you carry me?"

Ken licks his lips. Turns so that Genji's weight melts across his back. His arms looped under Genji's legs. He stands like it is nothing.

Begins the walk to Genji's room.

"No," Genji whines, when the get there. "Not here," he leans back. His weight threatening to tip them until Ken readjusts his grip.

"What do you mean?"

"My room is cold. And boring." Genji says. He hooks his chin over Ken's head. Ken's short hair tickles his chin. "Take me to Hanzo," Genji says, "or I'll throw up on your head."

Take me to Hanzo, he thinks.

Take me to my everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop!! That is probably gonna be it for this piece. Unless some other idea strikes me, I think I've said all I can in regards to this series.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed! I know I had fun writing something that was like...pretty different than my normal stuff lol.
> 
> Comments, updated tags, all that jazz just let me know


	4. Obligations (duty betrayal)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm back! Tastyboygenji's art has inspired me, what else can I say?

Genji swallows.

Hanzo can see the motion. Even from here. With a table between them.

And Father's men. The Elders. The men who hold his leash.

Genji squirms, just slightly. His hand reaches up, wipes a sheen of sweat from across his brow. Flips to rub down his cheek, under the hollow of his jaw.

Hanzo wishes he would stop moving.

Every second, every breath, he is being tested. Genji, nervous wreck he so clearly is, is failing. Going down like a ship. Aflame.

"So," Genji says. His voice wavers. His voice cracks. He flinches at the catch. So does their father. Hanzo only just catches himself.

Bites his lip.

It doesn't matter.

The Elders are not watching him anyway.

"So," Genji tries again, stronger this time, "I just...respectfully request a..." he pauses, licks his lips, searching for the word. His eyes hit Hanzo's, slide away. "Leniency. Perhaps, in this case of my loss. Of control. Of honor."

Hanzo's loss of control; though neither of them will say it. Maybe someone in this room beyond the two of them has some idea of that, but Hanzo doubts it.

The body is gone now. The evidence had been abundant. Genji's skin beneath Ken's nails. Genji shivering and shaking and sobbing.

And Hanzo the good brother in the eyes of their father, again again.

Genji looks down.

"You're saying that you seduced Takahasi-san on purpose?"

"I...no. I didn't stop him. I was weak and...and. And. My brother was just...protecting me."

Hanzo doesn't look down at his hands the way his eyes itch to when all the elders turn their heads to him. He keeps his chin tilted up. His fingers laced upon the table top.

"Is this true?"

Hanzo takes a breath. He and Genji have practiced this story. Delivered it once all ready. Their father had bought the tale, part and parcel, he had raised no questions.

The Elders.

They are a distinctly different breed.

The man closest sneers when Hanzo nods. But Hanzo does not focus on that man, or any of them. He looks to Genji. He shrugs, feigns nonchalance.

"I did what I had to. I could not watch my little brother be," Hanzo swallows, quickly, the word threatens to stutter, "defiled in that way. We were supposed to trust him. You all hired him because he was trustworthy." Hanzo does look at the elders then, lets his gaze slide over each face.

Wrinkled and old.

With mouths like assholes.

Age spots.

Crows feet.

"Some snake let into our midst by you all, it would seem." Hanzo says.

His father frowns at the words, the sliding, rending bite of them. Insulting the elders had not been in the plan. Hanzo tilts his head in slight apology, looks back over to Genji.

There is silence.

A drawing, closing, claustrophobic envelopment of it.

Unease.

Genji wipes at his face again, a finger drift towards his mouth. He catches the motion before it gets there, abruptly pulls his hands into his lap.

Hanzo thinks of a noose, Genji's hands, tangled in the ropes.

There is silence.

The Elders, deliberating in their own, silent, cloying fashion.

An eternity passes. A lifetime.

Hanzo thinks of the girl with urine on her thighs. He thinks of Ken, choking on his own blood. He thinks of Genji and the noose.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

"If you're that charming as to be irresistible to even someone hired to keep you in check," one elder says. A woman. One of the few in the council. Hawk-eyed in her soft wrinkles. Her hair pulled back severely. "Then perhaps we have grossly misjudged young Genji's usefulness."

The noose tightens.

Hanzo does flinch this time.

"What are you saying?" Their father asks. From his tone Hanzo can tell he did not expect this. The apology, delivered in this formal manner was supposed to be the end of it. Genji's duty done.

But this.

Hanzo closes his eyes. Genji is looking at him and he cannot meet that gaze.

"It's simple is it not? The second incident in a month involving Genji's...promiscuity. We are always in need of a delicate hand for certain interests. If he is so willing to show his loyalty, help the family, then what better way then by--"

"He is my son."

"And yet here we are again, Sojiro."

She doesn't use a title.

Hanzo watches his father draw in a breath. It whistles between his teeth, piercing. Indignant. And then he deflates, slouches in his chair.

"Father, I don't--"

"Be quiet, Genji."

Genji bites his lip. His shoulders tighten. He looks down.

"If we are to agree to this," their father says, "he will not go alone."

"A bodyguard sort of ruins the idea of a honeypot, does it not?" another elder says. "Hard to feast with eyes watching."

Hard to feast.

Ken's brow and the sweat on it. His eyes meeting Hanzo's. His face flushed. The taste of his come bitter across Hanzo's tongue.

Hanzo opens his eyes. Genji is peering at him through his lashes. He looks young, in that moment, and out of his element. His fate being decided upon by acidic and terrible old men.

"I will not let my son be used as bait. It's too dangerous, to offer him up to our enemies. I will not have it."

"Not our enemies perhaps then, but there are others. A show of flesh can make for a binding contract can it not," says another elder. "There are certain...foreign interests that would not look unkindly on a gift such as that. A little something for their stay."

"A bodyguard," their father says again, sterner.

"After what he did to the last one?"

Hanzo swallows. "I did it to the last one," he says. The Elders' heads swivel to him, quick, snakelike. "If Genji is to go, I will accompany him. As a bodyguard."

Their father's face goes red, deep scarlet, bordering purple. "Absolutely not! I won't have it! My heir and--"

"Calm yourself," the woman who had first spoke says. Her tone brooks no argument. Her fingernails click upon the tabletop. Her lips are tattooed on, Hanzo realizes when she purses them. A tight, thin line.

She looks at Hanzo.

Her eyes are grey, too light for her features. Colorless like glass. Or ice. Immeasurably cold.

"You would like to attend him, Hanzo?" she says.

Hanzo does not understand where this question could lead. He nods, once, curt.

Her eyes catch the light, they seem to reflect. Cat eyes. Inhuman. She leans over to another of the men, whispers something behind her hand. Her fingers are curled, gnarled like branches, her fingernails fruit, colorful, out of place.

The man she is speaking to nods. His face shifts, something like a smile. He in turn leans to the man next to him. He does not cover his mouth as she had, but Hanzo can not follow the quick movement of his lips. He barely tries.

"Alvarez?" The third man says, just loud enough to be heard. Hanzo does not recognize the name. The third man shrugs, shakes his head. Waves his hand. "The decision is yours. I want no part of it."

"Alvarez the weapons dealer?" their father asks. His tone is unreadable, his expression is flat.

Genji shifts in his chair.

"I won't have it," their father says. "A pervert. I will not expose my sons to--"

"There isn't much of a choice," Hanzo has lost track of who is speaking, the Council is one homogenous mass, many heads, singular goals. He stares at his hands, sneaks glances at the woman who is staring at him.

She is smiling, faintly.

Hanzo is surprised her mouth can even turn in that direction, the corners curling upward.

"There is little and less room for error, for...indulgences. Let him be put to use. Or let him be put out. Put down."

The woman's smile increases at that, a hint of teeth.

Hanzo looks to Genji. The expression his brother is wearing is a merciful blank. Either he has stopped listening, or the words have traversed into area too shocking for him to register.

A honeypot.

Genji.

Hanzo bites his lip again.

Their father puffs his chest, he looks as if he will argue further. Hanzo hopes he does, he desperately hopes. The eyes of the council skitter, clipping from Shimada to Shimada. Genji, slouched in his chair. Hanzo, sitting straight and staring back. And their father, his bravado.

His father opens his mouth.

And Genji beats him to the punch.

"I will do it," Genji says.

"I will do it." He licks his lips. He nods his head. "Just this once. My debt repaid. A deal?"

The heads tilt and whisper. Then silence. Contemplation.

"Very well," the woman says.

Their father opens his mouth once more but a cool flick of her hand silences him.

"If Hanzo can...come with me," Genji adds, hesitant. Hanzo wishes he hadn't. The woman's eyes flit between the two of them. Her lips curl again, but it looks little and less like a smile this time.

She looks at their father. "A deal it is then. We shall handle the preparations. Alvarez is scheduled to come in three days from now. This is a good thing, Sojiro. It will only serve to strengthen us in the end."

Their father looks away.

A show of weakness.

But Hanzo cannot really blame him.

\--

"I don't want to do this," Genji is saying. Lying in Hanzo's bed later that night.

A new mattress.

It's too firm, doesn't yield the way Hanzo is used to. Creaked and groaned when Genji had pushed him down onto it and rode him.

Hanzo sighs, closes his eyes. His skin feels tight, though whether it is the strange bed, or Genji's frantic seduction that has caused it, he cannot be sure.

And now they lay together.

After.

The sweat dries.

"Did you hear me," Genji asks, tilting his head on Hanzo's chest. His chin is sharp, digs into the muscle. "Big brother I know you aren't sleeping."

Hanzo opens his eyes. He frowns. "What do you want me to say?"

Genji licks his lips. They are still reddened, slightly swollen from the feverish way he had been kissing.

"That you...I don't know...that..." Genji swallows. Sits up. He makes a gesture with his hand, sweeping arch. His shoulders roll.

Hanzo watches him. He will not say he can take the burden this time. He cannot take the burden this time.

"It is your duty," Hanzo says, "you have already agreed."

Genji pulls a face, wounded, his eyes narrow, his lips turn into a frown.

"Even Father has given up the argument."

Genji flinches. Bares his teeth. "Father is a weak old man. Father never should have...Ken-tan was an unnecessary bother. Without him, there would be no this. All of this is Father's fault."

Hanzo cannot truly argue with that.

Father is a weak old man. Led by his council instead of leading them. Too wary and neutered to be an effective head. But Genji has already agreed.

There is no turning back from this now.

"You still have a few days," Hanzo says, "to make peace with this obligation. But it must be done now, Genji, and it must be you who does it."

Genji's expression tightens once more. Tension in his cheeks, in the flex of his brow. He stands. The muscles of his legs shake.

"I should go back to my own room," he says. "I will...think on what you have said."

Neutered.

Un-Genji-like.

Hanzo lets him go.

What more good can talking about it do them?

He closes his eyes. He tries to get comfortable in the foreign plane of the new bed.

\--

He almost doesn't recognize the woman when she approaches him the two days later. She is shorter than he would have guessed. Still sharp, the personification of a knife, deadly.

Hanzo looks up from the paperwork he had been tasked with checking.

She does not bow to him.

He isn't sure if he is supposed to rise and bow to her, so he does not.

The two of them stare at one another. Silent.

"Have you already heard," she asks. Her voice is pitched low, between just the two of them.

Hanzo does not know what she is talking about. It is early, barely eight am. His mind is not ready for riddles, for playing with Father's council. He sighs, shakes his head.

"Heard what?"

"About young Genji, of course. I would have thought Sojiro would have come to you first."

Hanzo heart drops. Worse than vertigo, a hollowing at the base of his spine, his stomach contracting. Fear.

Genji.

He swallows, licks his lips. The woman watches it all. She isn't smiling, but her eyes are, narrowed, taking in his every motion.

"What has happened to Genji?" he asks because there is no other way too. He can feel his pulse, racing in his throat. Double time, triple time. His fingers clench on the desk, paperwork wrinkles under his hands.

She takes a moment, a breath, drawing it out. A game to her, watching Hanzo squirm, the obvious signs of his distress.

"Why," she says, "he's run off. Some time in the night." She moves her hand. "A disgrace, of course, and when he's found I can only imagine..."

"There have been plenty of nights he has spent...not here. Genji...has been--"

"Genji has been allowed to run wild." Her words are quick and cutting. Hanzo flinches, looks down at his hands. "A disappearance, at this time, is too coincidental. You offered to bodyguard him during the Alvarez deal and I say that job starts now. Bring him to heel, Hanzo, the job is tonight."

"Tonight? I thought he wasn't due until..."

"Early flight," she says, shrugging. "I'm tasking you with finding him. Your father and his guards are useless. But you and Genji...well. Some on the council have noticed how...close you are to one another. His habits, surely, are not unknown to you."

Hanzo tips his head back, shuts his eyes. The threat in her words is not veiled. But he does not know his brother that way. He knows where to start though, has at least some idea. Genji is scared, Genji is worried. Finding him should not be all the difficult.

"And when I find him, where am I to take him?"

"The hotel near the airport. Alvarez will be in room 317. Do you believe Genji will be in need of...incentive? We do not want to put on a poor show here."

A show.

A honeypot.

Incentive.

Hanzo thinks of the noose, Genji grinning.

Incentive.

"Will it make him not care," Hanzo asks. His voice cracks. He touches his throat.

The woman does smile at that.

Her hands disappear within the folds of her dress. Reappear holding a small vial. The liquid within is clear. She shakes the bottle, pushes it forward until Hanzo takes it.

"For a while," she says, "it will make him manageable."

Hanzo turns the bottle in his palms.

And he hates himself.

\--

He finds Genji in a bar.

It's almost surprising.

Only the third place Hanzo has checked, though the getting there has taken longer than expected. It is trending toward evening when Hanzo pulls up to the bar, half-convinced his brother has skipped town.

But there he is. Genji, in the flesh, drowning himself in booze. And flesh. Half-dressed men, women in skirts and tank tops surround him at the bar. Genji's friends, or so he says.

Hanzo hates them all.

Hates the way they treat his brother.

None of them have noticed him entering. Genji calls for shots and they cheer. They orbit him. A woman presses her breasts against his arm as he passes her the shot. A distinctly mannish hand cups Genji's butt.

Hanzo watches.

Taken aback for a moment.

He has always known this is what it was like, but he has never witnessed it first hand.

His brother the life of the party.

His brother the whore.

Genji tosses back his shot. His throat is an endless column. He slams the glass down on the countertop, turns his head to laugh at one of the men behind him who is coughing over the liquor.

Genji's eyes open.

His gaze meets Hanzo across the distance to the door.

His cheeks, pink and alive with alcohol and laughter, pale.

"Shit," Genji says. Hanzo cannot hear him over the noise of the bar, but he can read the motion of his lips, the sudden darting of his eyes.

Genji turns, his head moves in a frantic bobbing motion, but he is trapped against the bar by the bodies of his friends. One of them, a man, square and large and probably Hanzo's age, leans over Genji's back to pluck another shot glass off the counter. Hanzo can just see his hands cradling Genji's hips.

Hanzo approaches Genji.

Genji, fluttering, twisting, trapped.

Hanzo grabs the man closest by the shoulder, turns him. The drink the man had just grabbed splashes. The tendons in Hanzo's wrist are like iron, pressing out of the skin. His rage at Genji, at Genji's terrible choices.

"Hanzo--," Genji begins.

"What the fuck--," the man is saying.

Hanzo doesn't care.

The anger is blinding. The bottle in his pocket and the Elders and Ken and their father and Genji's impotent little rebellions. His fucking reliance on Hanzo. The weight of his choices on Hanzo always always.

Hanzo grabs the protesting man by the face, his fingers dig into the man's cheeks hard enough he can feel the cut of teeth underneath. He imagine the blood, teeth clipping too roughly into the flesh.

"Hanzo, don't!"

But Hanzo does not listen.

He lets himself, for this one moment, experience the freedom Genji so proudly flaunts.

He drags the man's face into his knee. Quick motions, efficient, the man barely has time to fight. His nose explodes against Hanzo's leg, blood and snot.

The others in the group are only just catching up.

One girl gasps.

A man yells.

Genji is worming his way between Hanzo and the fellow with the broken nose. His hands against Hanzo's chest, and his throat. Genji's face, yelling at him.

Hanzo lets the man go. Lets him drop. He feels his breath, each expanding moment of his lungs, he feels his heart, the racing adrenaline.

"Who the fuck do you--" another man is saying, moving to his fallen friend. A hand on the downed man's back.

Genji turns his head. His eyes are narrowed. "Drop it, Lee-san," he says. "The Shimada clan will handle the damage to Aki's face. Take him to a hospital, okay? On my tab."

The man Hanzo hit, Aki Genji had said, groans. Lifts his head. His cheeks and nose are an angry shade of red, like sunburn, swelling already. The blood on his chin.

Hanzo feels nothing. Watching it.

Hanzo feels nothing when Genji grabs him by the elbow and pulls him out of the bar.

His friends make no move to follow.

Genji tugs him away, out the front door and around the side. The night is still young, there are people in the streets, but the alley Genji drags him to is empty.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Genji asks. Demands. He's yelling. He pushes Hanzo against the brick of the building. Unyielding, Hanzo's head bounces painfully against it.

"You have a job."

"That I don't fucking want."

"So you were running away."

Genji scoffs. His nose wrinkles, his lips pull back from his teeth. "Oh come on, Hanzo," he says, "it's not that fucking important."

"They'll find someone else to do it." Genji says.

"Maybe you can do it if you're so hot to please them." Genji says.

Hanzo does feel a twinge of rage at that. An echo of the feeling in the bar.

"Was that your plan all along? Just let me do it?" Hanzo asks. He leans his head forward, but Genji's body has him caged against the wall.

Genji's eyes drop away.

When they ghost back to him, they are slightly moist, more than a little bit guilty.

"You've always taken my burdens before," Genji says, "and you have never minded. Why is this time any different? I don't want to fuck some...gross old man, some stranger."

"That man in the bar was a stranger. You seemed okay with letting him fuck you."

"Who? Aki-kun?" Genji doesn't laugh but his eyes go wide. "Aki is my friend, he's not a stranger."

"They are all strangers," Hanzo says. He moves his hands, grips Genji's shoulders, pushes him away.

"You want to watch this old man fuck me, is that it, Hanzo?"

Hanzo thinks of Ken. His hips colliding with Genji's thighs. There are still bruises there. Made by Hanzo, made by Ken, makes no difference.

"If I had my way," Hanzo says, quietly, leaning against Genji to whisper into his ear. "No one would ever fuck you, except for me." He tilts his head, his forehead touches Genji's cheek. "I don't think you know how much I love you, little brother."

Genji cranes his head back. He scans Hanzo's face. "If you loved me, you'd take this from me."

The bottle in Hanzo's pocket holds a weight it should not. Incentive. Something to calm him. Hanzo pulls it out, with relatively little flourish.

Genji looks down at it.

"What is that?"

"Something to take it away."

Genji deflates. His weight melts against Hanzo's, the two of them, supported shakily by the other.

"I didn't mean drugs, Hanzo."

"But it is your duty. It's the...the only thing I can offer."

Genji closes his eyes.

"I hate you," he says.

Hanzo nods, his hand brushes Genji's cheek, slips under his armpit to haul him upright.

"I know," he says. "I know."

\--

The hotel room is already outfitted with clothes for both Genji and Hanzo. Traditional garb. Hanzo is used to the stiff air, the decadent satins.

Genji looks less than comfortable.

He fidgets and itches and wiggles.

"Stop it. We're supposed to be--"

"If you tell me one more time how this is my job, Hanzo, I swear I'll steal that bottle and make you drink it. I'm not putting on a show. I don't want to be here."

Petulant.

Genji scratches the back of his head.

The room is nicely furnished. A really upscale place. A hardwood desk, a plush bed, woven carpets. Hanzo leans against the wall by the door. He has braided his hair, it hangs heavy behind his head.

Genji's shock of green hair has been combed. It's all he was able to talk him into doing.

To Hanzo, neither of them particularly appear in character. They are not the honeypot and the bodyguard. They are just themselves. In nicer clothes.

But the man, Alvarez, does not know them, so maybe the plan will hold up. There had been a hand written note left for them at the front desk. Arrival times, business notes.

Hanzo had looked it over briefly.

Genji had crumpled it and thrown it in the trash.

"I don't want to do this," Genji says.

A dog with a bone and he will not give it up until the noose has hauled him from his feet, his jaw gone slack, choking.

Hanzo clenches his hand.

"I get that," he says, "don't you think I get it?"

Genji dips his head. He looks away, and then back. Heavy-lidded.

"We could still go, you know," Genji says. His voice is pitched low, a whisper for just the two of them. Hanzo doesn't know if the council has bugged the room or not; but Genji's voice, just barely scratching volume, will maybe not be picked up. "The two of us, we don't have to stay with the clan."

"Stop it. That's..." Hanzo cannot control his own tone. The pitch slides higher than he means. He bites his lip. "You do not mean that," he hisses.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it's...crazy. Deceitful. Wrong. Father has done everything for you, everything and he--to turn on him like some...beast."

A rabid thing.

Disloyal.

"Shhh," Genji admonishes, frowning. "You're too loud."

"And you aren't--"

"I wasn't serious. Forget it, big brother. He'll be here soon. I need to..."

"I'm not leaving you in here alone."

"Don't trust me?" Genji asks. He grins. Wipes a finger across his lips. His shoulders sag. "God damn it," he says.

He sits at the edge of the bed. The fabric of the robe has slipped from his shoulder. Lush green against his pale skin. A picture, a snapshot.

He could almost, in that moment, be the honeypot.

Heavy-lidded eyes. Pink lips.

"Hanzo," he says, "I'm doing this for you, okay?"

"For the family."

"No," Genji says, sharply, "for you. I want you to remember that." He breathes, the fabric falls a little further and he hitches it back up onto his shoulder with a little sigh. "Give me the bottle."

The nondescript liquid sloshes against the sides. Genji swirls it. Closes his eyes.

Tosses it back.

He stays like that a moment.

His throat extended again, his eyes moving under his lids.

"Tastes like shit," he says. His head tilts, rolls boneless on his neck. He flicks a thumb down his sternum, Hanzo imagines he can hear the sound of the nail against the skin. Dry, rolling scrape.

"Do you feel anything?"

Genji shakes his head. The finger slides down his chest again. And again.

"Not really. Maybe she was bullshitting you."

Genji grins. His pupils are dilated. Blackness eating through the iris, the honey-brown reduced to a halo. His thumb traces down his sternum again. Again.

Makes a circle this time.

The robe slips from his shoulder.

"Genji."

"Hush, brother. He's due soon, isn't he?"

The instructions had been clear. "They are supposed to text when they've hit the lobby."

Genji licks his lips. "No text?"

Hanzo touches his phone, silent on the desk. Genji, swaying slightly, stands, crosses to it. His fingers brush Hanzo's; cool and dry. The screen lights up, turns their skin blue. Sickly.

"Are you okay?"

Genji blinks. Nods. "Guess," he says.

"It's been two minutes."

"Maybe she wasn't bullshitting then." He licks his lips again. A compulsive little motion. His expression settles. Mouth screwed to the side, eyes half-lidded. "I feel fuzzy," he says. His fingers touch at his own chest again, curl to scrape his fingernails against the skin. "Weird, not bad though."

Genji takes a breath. Leans into Hanzo's space. "Are you going to stab this man in the eye too, big brother? Are you going to keep me just for you?"

"You know that I cannot. You shouldn't say those things, Genji."

He presses his hand against Genji's shoulder. The bare one. Without thinking. His palm flat against the curl of bone and muscle, his fingers wrapping partially around Genji's upper arm. The muscle twitches under his grip and Genji lets out a sound. Seething little catch in his throat.

Hanzo draws his hand back, snatches it back, pulls into his chest and Genji hisses like he's been burned.

"I'm sorry," Hanzo says, "I didn't--"

"No! It's...it didn't." His fingers grope forward, interlacing with Hanzo's, their knuckles bump, line up, in synch. Genji tugs until Hanzo's hand is over his heart. Hanzo doesn't know if it's his own racing pulse he feels in Genji's skin.

The trembling, racing, tripping beat of it.

Genji's pushes Hanzo's hand flat, kneads it against his skin. His voice catches, a shaking moan. The flat of Hanzo's palm caressing his nipple.

"We shouldn't," Hanzo says. "We don't know who could be..."

Watching.

Listening.

Alvarez isn't here yet.

Alvarez isn't here yet.

The sentence repeats. Something different in it each time.

Hanzo's fingers twist against Genji's nipple, rolling the skin between his fingertips. Feeling it harden and pebble beneath them.

Alvarez isn't here yet.

A trap.

A honeypot.

A noose.

"Please, Hanzo," Genji says. "I don't care. Nnnn. I. I just. I don't hate you."

A lie, a pretty lie, but a lie.

Hanzo's fingers twist harder. Tugging Genji closer. A hand at the small of his back, pulling him flush to Hanzo's front.

"Just don't stop, okay," Genji says against his neck. Mewling and wanton.

His legs spread over Hanzo's thigh, the robe rides high, the flimsy material catching at his hips. Parting indecently. The desk takes his weight. His fingers tug at Hanzo's hair. Loosening the braid.

Undoing the careful work.

"Hanzo," he says. "Oh god, Hanzo."

Hanzo huffs against Genji's cheek, a staccato burst. They need to stop this, or who knows what could happen. The silk has fallen open, his cock curls from the apex of his thighs, trembling, leaking.

So worked up already.

The drug riding high, making Genji more desperate than usual. Making him manageable, that is what she had said. Genji, utterly blissed out from barely anything at all. Anyone could be touching him, with the drug in his veins, it's the touch, not the person, that matters.

Genji's knees tighten on Hanzo's hips. The desk stutters a complaint, the wood knocks against the wall.

"Fuck me, Hanzo," Genji says, "we have time. It'll be quick...we can--I wanna feel it like this."

"Alvarez--"

"Isn't here yet. I want you," he says, "isn't that enough?"

But of course, it is not.

They are Shimada's, the blood of the dragon. They have obligations and duties and appointed tasks. And this spits in the face of all of it.

But Genji's tongue swipes against Hanzo's lips, and his fingers dig into Hanzo's shoulders and his cock jumps in Hanzo's palm and for the moment, it could almost be enough.

Genji is already lubed up, a faint trace of stickiness on the insides of his thighs. Hanzo swipes his thumb through it while Genji groans and writhes like someone in a porno. Someone being paid.

Putting on the good show.

They should not do this.

"When did you?" Hanzo asks, his sticky fingers lift to stroke down Genji's cock, quick little touches.

Genji doesn't even have the decency to blush. "At the bar. Aki-kun doesn't always like to wait. Not exactly patient."

Hanzo doesn't want to hear it. He bites his brother's lips, shuts him up, forcefully, powerfully. Genji is putty beneath his hands, it takes nothing to reduce him to a shaking, grunting mess.

Hanzo pushes two fingers into him. He doesn't wait and he isn't patient and Genji practically howls against his lips. Whining in his throat. His hips work against the rhythm Hanzo sets, pumping back onto Hanzo's fingers.

A third finger, Hanzo twists them, curls them. Spreads them. Genji's body gives into him easily. Easier than ever; though whether it is the drug itself, or Genji's current drug-induced headspace that has him so relaxed, Hanzo cannot know. Genji's body parts for him. And, fascinated Hanzo gives it his all.

His pinkie brushes the soft skin around Genji's stretched entrance, just the tip, grazing where his fingers are buried.

"Yes," Genji says, nodding. His legs spread further, his hands cling tighter. "Fuck, god, yes, Hanzo."

"More lube?"

Genji keens. "I don't care."

Hanzo shakes his head. "More lube," he says again. No question in it this time. His fingers slide free and Genji sobs against his lips.

Hanzo's phone lays silent on the desk.

They should not.

"Go to the bed, Genji."

They should not.

"And I'll give you what you want."

Genji doesn't hesitate to comply. He practically falls into the bed, the material bunches about his waist as he kneels. The curve of his ass, the skin there, is pink and feverish looking.

Hanzo touches it, lets his fingers wander the plane of muscle. The slight give. He pinches Genji's ass and Genji flinches, groans, his hips rise higher and his voice breaks into a plead.

Hanzo spreads his brother's cheeks with his free hand, drips the lubricant down his crack with the other. The liquid slicks the skin, shiny.

They shouldn't do this.

"Yes, yes, yes, nnnn. Fuck. F--big brother, you're..."

Hanzo isn't listening. He works his three fingers back in, bends them at the knuckle to work them back and forth before breaching Genji completely. It doesn't take much.

Genji keens beneath him.

His pinkie takes little and less concentration, the angle on his wrist--odd, extreme--is the only thing that takes him a moment. He hooks his fingers, four of them, inside.

"Are you okay?"

"Fuck. God....hnnnngggh ju--" Genji's voice is a broken thing. Fluttering again, sparrows with broken wings. "Fine," Genji bites out. "It feels so--never done." He swallows, his shoulders shake, his face tilted toward Hanzo flushes. "Never done this."

Hanzo nods. Part of him longs to tell Genji he is doing well. Instead he says: "Just a little bit more. Can you take it?"

"Ye--," Genji begins, but Hanzo curls his fingers again, cruelly. He rubs at Genji's prostate, quick motions with his middle and ring finger, circular, pulsing. He brings his thumb up to Genji's premium, presses it to where his fingertips are, outside and inside of Genji's body.

"Do you want me?" Hanzo asks.

But Genji doesn't answer, or he doesn't hear him, and it doesn't really matter anyway.

He twists his hand again, slips his thumb into the center of his palm to slim the harsh angle of his wrist.

Genji's body flutters around him. Sweat slick and lube and trembling give. Hanzo presses forward, his hand enveloped. Genji's shoulders give, his head turns in the bed spread. His eyes are glassy, mouth gaping. Tongue jutting.

The noose.

And death.

Hanzo's thighs shiver, the tremor follows up his spine, the skin of his back twitches with it. Hanzo leans down to kiss the jumping muscles.

"Are you okay?" He asks again.

Genji's answering groan is inhuman, dredged up from the pit of his belly. Guttural.

"M--Hanz...move," Genji manages. His eyes shut. Hanzo slides his free hand around Genji's hip, his fingers touch delicate against Genji's cock. He moves his hand within his brother, gentle, tiny hitching strokes. He imagines he can feel them in Genji's quivering cock, the aftershocks, the loss of control.

It doesn't take much.

The stretch, or Hanzo's hand cupping him, is enough. A moment or two, Hanzo buried to the wrist and worried to go deeper and Genji sobs, shudders and goes rigid. His cock drools into Hanzo's fist. Barely anything. Hardly enough. Hanzo forms a loose fist, pumps his hand to coax more out, but Genji just whines, shifts his hips and whines again.

Oversensitive.

Hanzo's hand probably is not helping. Gently, carefully, he pulls it out. Genji collapses as soon as he has. His sides are heaving. His eyes flutter, open and closed again.

"Are you--"

"Shhhhh," Genji says. He licks his lips. Once, twice. "Give me a minute. Then I can..."

"Genji it's--"

"We can finish. I'm still...I just need a second."

"Genji--"

"I want to. I want you. The feeling's not gone. I just..."

Genji's hands move, bracing themselves. He pushes up, his shoulders ripple, his muscles bunch.

"Do you love me, Hanzo?" He asks.

It's too loud.

It's too late.

"More than I should," Hanzo says.

And the noose lifts.

And the floor drops.

And they've been hung.

It is done.

Over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. There probably isn't going to be a happy ending here. We'll see though.

**Author's Note:**

> There we go. Hope everyone enjoyed.
> 
> If anything needs to be tagged more explicitly just let me know. See you next time everyone


End file.
